A Matter of Will
by Lady Memory
Summary: COMPLETE! The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself. HBP compliant.
1. Coming back

**A Matter of Will**

by Lady Memory

(simply Memory in SH and TPP)

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

**_Disclaimer: _**I don't own anyone of the characters in this story. The HP canon ones because they have obviously been invented by Mrs. Rowling (Oh! What a clever woman! Couldn't I borrow her brain for a day?). And the OC ones because they have already left me and decided to go living somewhere else. Good luck, little people!

**_Warning_**: I'm Italian, so my English may sound strange to native ears. My fantastic betas have done their best to give a sense to my wild writing. Infinite grateful thanks to **Jynx67** for her patience and perseverance, and to **Pennfana** for her useful considerations.

**_Final warning_**: although this story is full of emotions, love has not been considered here in its classical, romantic meaning.

_Now, if you want, go on at your risk and peril._

**Chapter 1 – Coming back**

Darkness.

Pain… Intolerable pain… Thirst… Anguish…

Darkness again.

--

Darkness.

Memories floating in a chaotic whirl.

Pain… _Pain_ … Panic... Struggling to stay conscious…

Darkness again.

--

Darkness…

Pain… Less pain… Trying to understand what is happening…

Memories coming slowly…

_Huge walls. Massive stones. Scarce light. Torches smoking and burning with crackling sounds. Green mould. Musty smell… The Dungeons… Somewhere in the subterranean and most mysterious part of the Hogwarts Castle. Noises and shouts muffled by distance, clashes and thunders reverberating loudly in the deep… _

_The Dark Lord enters a passage, his red eyes glowing menacingly, his imposing figure walking regally towards the younger wizard waiting for him. As usual, Wormtail is following his Master closely, but this time he looks tired and extremely nervous. Nagini, the big serpent, is sinuously crawling after them, her ferocious head raised disdainfully far from the muddy ground._

_"It seems they are resisting more forcefully than I had believed, Severus… Is this the force of desperation or have they found unexpected support somewhere?"_

_The Dark Lord's high-pitched voice has always sounded inhuman and cold, but this time, a different, more threatening note is coming through. His piercing eyes are intensely scrutinizing the thin, pale, exhausted man in front of him._

_The younger wizard lowers his head in a bow, apparently to show his respect, though actually to hide his uneasiness. "Should I go back and see what's happening, my Lord? Perhaps another wand could be of help…"_

_"How gracious of you!" A dreadful pause. "But tell me, Severus, who are the ones you are wishing to help? The men and women that carry the same mark I burned on your arm, the symbol you swore to obey… or the dear, good, old friends you never truly abandoned?" The Dark Lord's voice is icy and Wormtail cringes in apprehension, his gaze flickering anxiously from his Master to the uncharacteristically tense Severus Snape, his worst fears growing stronger every minute._

_Severus is clearly making an effort to control his anxiety. His words sound strangely uncertain, somewhat insincere. "My loyalties have always been yours, my Lord. I don't know in what I could have disappointed you…"_

"_You don't know, Severus? You really don't know?" _

_In another moment, Wormtail would greatly enjoy this verbal exchange. He knows perfectly well that when his Master begins to pose these frightfully ironical questions, calling his target repeatedly by name, is the signal of a rising anger that will soon be followed by a rewarding scene of suffering. And Wormtail loves to see people suffer. The more important, powerful or honoured they are, the more he is pleased to see them imploring and writhing at his Master's feet. _

_But today, Wormtail is too scared to appreciate the absolutely unexpected pleasure of seeing Severus Snape being cruelly teased, even if this is a pleasure he has always dreamed of witnessing. Today, all their lives are at risk, a terrible risk. He has always been afraid that this moment would come, and now it is coming, alarmingly rapid, even more frightening than death. _

_Is Severus Snape a traitor? Is he THE traitor, as Bellatrix Black has always declared? What is going to happen if the Dark Lord's party is defeated? And what kind of punishment would then be reserved for Wormtail, the man who has played a main role in the Dark Lord's rebirth?_

_Wormtail feels his throat tightening in panic. Nobody exactly know what the prophecy says… Has the Dark Lord been so foolish as to inconsiderately rely only upon exalted, hopeless dreams, sacrificing the lives of his followers in a vain quest for power?_

_Severus Snape can easily read all the doubts gathering and clashing in the eyes of the little man watching him in deep anxiety. It's so easy to detect those emotions! After all, he is a superb Occlumens and a skilled Legilimens, as Albus Dumbledore used to say. But this thought is scarcely a comfort, at the moment. _

_A bitter smile twists his lips when he raises his head again to face his Master._

_He is alone. As always, he is alone._

--

Fear… Anguish…

Darkness… blessed darkness … Then oblivion.

Abruptly awaken. Is it night or day?

Darkness. Pain.

Finally he can move a hand.

Memories return in a sudden flow of images and sound.

_The Dark Lord is staring at Snape, his face distorted by hate and suspicion, while Severus silently braces himself, gathering all his remaining strength. Nothing is going as he has planned in his highly organized mind. He breathes deeply. There must be a way!_

_For few, infinite seconds, time stops in a pocket-sized eternity, where everybody moves in a bizarre parody of the real world: the Dark Lord's hideous features hardening in rage, Wormtail backing slowly, eyes full of terror and sudden awareness, Nagini hissing menacingly behind its Master… Now everybody seems frozen in time. _

_Then, abruptly, life comes back, accelerating again._

_Remus Lupin is suddenly at Severus' side, wand lifted, lips tightened in a determined expression. What the hell is he trying to do?! A red flash glows while Severus is still reaching for his wand. Lupin falls graciously on the ground, eyes blank, mouth open in a silent scream. The Dark Lord now smiles and his smile is of cruel pleasure._

"_Another foolish attempt," he declares sarcastically. "So, has your turn finally come, Severus? You won't be afraid of me, I believe… After all, aren't you the one who killed the great Dumbledore?"_

_Severus hesitates under the gaze of those merciless, reptilian eyes. He doesn't know if he should at least make an attempt. Indecision. Fear. Impotence. Where is Potter? Where is the supposed saviour of the wizarding world hiding?_

_The Dark Lord laughs and the sound echoes loudly against the stones, while he seems to grow stronger, dreadful, overwhelming! Just a word and the younger wizard's body is aflame. Severus writhes on the ground, feeling his bones become liquid fire. Pain. Pain! Such an unbearable pain!_

--

Darkness. Silence. In the unknown place where he is lying, Severus touches lightly his face, slowly, almost fearfully. His mind is confused.

"_Am I still living? Am I in hell? Why can't I hear a sound? Where am I?"_

Then he feels the bandages around his head and he knows. He is injured, but still alive. Should he be glad? Pain, terrible pain explodes in his brain when he tries to get up. His hands finally find the soft sheets under him.

"_This is a bed! Is somebody taking care of me? …"_

--

Back into darkness again. Now memories are much more coordinated, but emotions are difficult to hold back. He struggles against a devastating sensation of panic and tries to regain his self-control.

"_My name is Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, former Death Eater, member of the Order of the Phoenix and spy for both sides. But I'm also a traitor and Dumbledore's murderer, and… Oh, how many labels, how many sufferings in a life that hasn't even reached its middle! _

_If the "good side" has won, will I be prosecuted for what I've done? Is there somebody left to testify on whose side I really was? Will somebody believe me, or are they just keeping me alive for the glory of my punishment?"_

He sighs in despair. Again, memories begin to flow mercilessly in his mind…

--

_Remus Lupin is on the ground next to Severus, his empty eyes looking vainly at the ceiling. His body is stiff, rigid as if it was made of stone. Even if Snape has never cared for him nor considered him a friend, even if they have always been opposites since the days of their youth, an anguished sensation of loss and fear enters his heart and mind violently. _

"_This is the final battle! Our only hopes rely upon Potter… and me!"_

_But the Dark Lord is still keeping Severus under his curse. And he is too powerful! How will a pathetic boy, who has never shown a particular talent except luck, be able to escape such a terrible threat? Severus twists in agony while his mind concentrate on the boy. The pain is so horrible that he can't even cry, his mouth gritted in spasms. All he can do is hope that the torture may end, even with his own death. He is too weak, worn-out and desperate…_

_"Albus was mad thinking that we could have a chance against this power! And I was even more foolish to believe him!"_

_Suddenly, the torture stops, and Severus hears his Master's mocking voice calling him. "Rise, Severus, my loyal follower. Rise and receive the prize you so truly deserve!"_

_Severus' pride helps him. He is NOT going to die crawling in the mud. He has just painfully risen to his feet when Potter enters, running in the passage, as always escorted by his ever-present sidekicks, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Oddly, but luckily, they have not been followed by those other two useless children, Neville Longbottom and that crazy Lovegood girl._

_Hermione Granger looks at Severus with wide, anguished eyes, while the boys glare at him in anger and contempt. The Dark Lord immediately turns to them, raising his wand again. He is triumphant. Three children, just three children in front of the Master of all evils! This time, only luck will be there to help them… Luck and the quickly vanishing forces of Severus Snape, too exhausted even to speak._

_"Welcome, my dear, dear friends! Come to join the party?" Voldemort exclaims as he bows ironically. "Ah, Harry, finally we meet again, and I hope you were expecting this moment as anxiously as I was. Because today is my day, and this time there won't be any chance for you! What an unlucky coincidence for the other young fellows here, to be associated with you!" A frightful pause, then a cunning, hideous smile. "But perhaps one of them is having second thoughts? I feel generous today, so I will kindly offer a last possibility to those willing to accept it…"_

_His eyes stare coldly at the small, silent group. The children are clinging together instinctively. They look so young and defenceless, just like those tiny little birds that get close to each other to comfort themselves. And as a result, they offer a perfect target._

_The Dark Lord smiles meaningfully. "As I imagined…" he murmurs, grimly amused._

_Everything happens quickly. His smile turned suddenly cruel, the Dark Lord rapidly lifts his wand and casts a forceful curse. The children are ready to react, but the spell is too strong, even if they are three against one. Only the addition of Severus' silent "Protego", even if he is still shaking in weariness, succeeds in managing an acceptable shield, thus deflecting the attack. However, Weasley must have somehow escaped the protection. He falls with a cry of pain, thrashing in spasms more and more faintly on the ground, until he lies motionless. The other two seem to freeze in horror._

_"Ron!" The girl gives an agonizing cry, while Harry steps forward and pushes her behind him, protecting her with his body. With frightening slowness, the Dark Lord turns to stare at Severus, a sentence of death unmistakably written in his dreadful eyes, an enigmatic smile still curling his lips. Harry Potter, too, is looking at his former professor with hating, implacable eyes, and Snape, with a shiver, suddenly realizes that the boy still believes him to be an enemy. Evidently, Potter hasn't understood what happened. Clearly, he thinks that his friends and he haven't been strong enough to stop "two" joined hexes. Obviously. Weasley has been struck and Severus is there, wand raised, the Dark Lord's deceiving words of congratulations still echoing in the air. How could Potter trust him? Why should he?_

_Harry speaks through gritted teeth. The arrogant brat has more backbone than Severus would like to admit._

_"You bastards! I'll do my best to kill you both in the most painful way! And you, Lord Voldemort, remember the prophecy and be afraid! I have already met you and survived four times!"_

_The Dark Lord shifts involuntarily, a wondering frown on his face, when unexpectedly Hermione Granger casts a spell. The rational one! Too afraid to face Voldemort by herself, she is at least trying to eliminate all the minor adversaries and leave the Dark Lord unprotected. And Severus, in this moment, is an easy target, too weak to react properly. Again he falls in the mud, feeling its slimy wetness reach his body through his damp clothes._

_Voldemort has regained his composure and his cruel, inhuman smile. "It seems that your reward will be more than enjoyable, Severus. Even your former allies are willing to be of assistance. Perhaps you have been too efficient in your double task!"_

_Then he adds coldly, no longer amused. "I'm glad you reminded me of our previous meetings, Potter. Luck, simply luck has helped you to survive until now and only to lead you in front of me again. So, you'd like to kill me? You foolish little child! It will be a pleasure to finally see you begging for mercy. But rest assured, you won't die alone. I'm not going to separate you from these so very faithful friends of yours!" He gives a short laugh then he continues sarcastically. "You will forgive me if I keep for myself our dear Severus, since his punishment has to be long, long and painful. I think you won't mind, will you?"_

_A shot of light and Severus, who was painfully trying to rise and possibly speak, curls up in torment. He doesn't even try to stand up again. Potter is looking confused, enraged, but hesitant. He is gazing uncertainly at Snape, wand ready to strike, when Remus unexpectedly regains consciousness with a moan and stammers, "Harry, don't, Severus is a fr…"_

_The Dark Lord simply raises his hand._

_This time, Snape hasn't the time or the strength to appropriately protect his old schoolmate, even if he tries to. The spell is ferocious, of course, so his wand skips away, far from his reach, while Remus writhes in convulsions until he becomes immobile. Luckily, he seems to be still breathing. Severus numbly thinks that the werewolf should thank him, if they survive._

_"Remus!" The children gasp in shocked horror; Hermione almost in tears, Harry paling horribly. The Dark Lord's lips curl in contempt before the pathetic bunch of survivors._

_"So, who's next, now?" he invites, dangerously calm, and Severus sees through his unfocused eyes that neither Potter nor the girl know what to do._

_"Albus," he thinks bitterly, "how could you hope? HOW COULD YOU HOPE!?"_

_Then, without warning, he stretches himself with a moan and snatches Remus' wand from his contracted hands. It's not his own wand, so he knows that it won't work perfectly, but he must do what he must do. It's difficult, but not impossible. It's a matter of will._

_He is waiting in agony to be blasted once more when, surprisingly, two amazing events happen almost simultaneously._

_Hermione Granger, with a sudden decision, coldly points her wand at Nagini and kills the enormous animal with an astonishing "Avada Kedavra". Her spell is so powerful that everybody flinches as the deadly green light crosses the space between the girl and the beast. Then Hermione, shocked by the violence of such a malignant curse, slumps to her knees, trembling._

_The Dark Lord gives a terrible scream and presses a hand to his chest, tightening his wand so forcefully that he nearly snaps it in two. Immediately after, with a speed impossible to match, a red flash of anger reaches the girl, knocking her down before anyone can even think to react._

"_No!" Harry shouts in desperation while he casts a spell that is easily deflected by his furious enemy. _

"_Enough! I have toyed too much with you and your friends, Potter, sparing your miserable lives! Die, and may all my enemies die with you!" The Dark Lord's rage is terrible to see, almost unsustainable, and Harry, for a moment, steps back, lost in panic._

_During this exchange, a trembling but determined Wormtail, eyes full of tears, has advanced slowly and undetected behind his Master. His cowardice is - incredibly - forcing him to ally with his former enemies! What is going on in his mind? Is he hoping for a more merciful sentence? Are his old feelings of friendship awakening or is this merely his conscience? Is he willing to pay the debt he feels towards the boy who once saved his life? Nobody will ever know but, when the Dark Lord, livid in anger, points his wand at Potter, Wormtail is ready to stop the mortal ray. Then, his wand explodes in the effort, and the little pathetic man opens his watery eyes one last time, incredulous before death, as if he couldn't believe what he had just done._

_Voldemort looks more than frightening: all his evil powers are gathering in violent waves that make the air and earth pulsate forcefully around him. Every element of Nature seems to join him and submit to his command. His figure is dreadfully blazing and his spidery fingers emit rays of light while he regally moves his hand, lifting a radiant wand with intolerable slowness._

_Suddenly, three different shots erupt in the darkness. The first one is the Dark Lord trying to strike Harry Potter. The second one is Harry, counteracting. And the third one is Severus, shielding Harry with the last of his power._

--

Now he is certain that he is awake, as he hears voices in the distance, muffled as if they were coming, for instance, from behind a door. He desperately tries to understand what those indistinct sounds are expressing, because he needs all the information he can collect... he has always been vigilant.

A door opens quietly and he waits motionless, not even breathing. Friend or enemy? Soon he will know.

The soft rustling sound of a person walking, a sweet, fragrant scent, then the soothing touch of warm, delicate fingers on his head and his hands. Could this possibly be a Mediwizard? He feels the placid power of a Diagnostic Spell washing over his body and relaxes for a moment. Then, the stranger silently exits the room and, before the door is closed, he hears the gentle voice of a girl declaring quietly, "Nothing has changed till now. He appears to be still unconscious."

A more mature tone answers, concerned, "I hope that he will recover soon—he has suffered so much! He deserves every moment of peace we can offer to him."

That voice! His heart seems to break into a thousand pieces! Poppy! Poppy Pomfrey! He IS safe! But this violent emotion is too much for his exhausted body and he finally falls mercifully into oblivion.


	2. Discoveries

**A Matter of Will**

by Lady Memory

(simply Memory in SH and TPP)

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own anyone of the characters in this story. The HP canon ones because they have obviously been invented by Mrs. Rowling (Oh! What a clever woman! Couldn't I borrow her brain for a day?). And the OC ones because they have already left me and decided to go living somewhere else. Good luck, little people!_

_**Warning**: I'm Italian, so my English may sound strange to native ears. My fantastic betas have done their best to give a sense to my wild writing. Infinite grateful thanks to **Jynx67** for her patience and perseverance, and to **Pennfana** for her useful considerations._

_**Final warning**: although this story is full of emotions, love has NOT been considered here in its classical, romantic meaning._

_Now, if you want, go on at your risk and peril._

**Chapter 2 - Discoveries**

As soon as he wakes up again, Severus frets with impatience. Now positive that he is safe, he cannot wait to ask and to be answered. Strange emotions for a man who has cultivated control for almost his whole life! But he doesn't care, he only wants to speak with Poppy now. He tries to rise, but immediately he realizes that he is too weak even to call for help. And these damned bandages on his head and eyes! He knows he was injured, since his head is aching awfully when he moves it, but these bandages are an annoying limitation, because they don't allow him to see. Is it day or night? How much longer will he have to wait? Again, he has to muster all his resources to resist his devouring impatience. It's a matter of will, more than ever, and he struggles to keep his mind under control.

Thankfully, an answer comes after only a few minutes of torture. The same light steps he heard before, the same warm fragrance, the same gentle touch. But this time, he is ready to speak. "Who are you? Where am I? Is this St. Mungo's?"

"Professor!" A delighted, unbelievable, unmistakable note of happiness comes from the voice; nobody has ever addressed him with such joy. "You're finally awake! Oh, I'm so glad! Everybody here will be so pleased! How are you feeling?"

But he is Severus Snape and things must be done the way he wants.

"Who are you? Where am I?" he insists forcefully.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" The girl answers hastily and he can sense the smile in her voice. "You are in St. Mungo's, of course. They brought you here after the battle… and I'm Becky Ingham. Do you remember me, Professor? You taught me in sixth year, but I passed the N.E.W.T. with Professor Slughorn, as you were…"

She stops, embarrassed. Foolish, clumsy girl! And so young! How can people at St. Mungo's depend on such unqualified assistance? Have so few of the experienced Healers remained that he has to be watched over by this clearly untrained girl? He feels a deep rage rising.

"Yes, I remember you, Miss Ingham, a remarkable failure in my class! How could you pass the N.E.W.T. in Potions and enter such a renowned institution like St. Mungo's? Now, let me guess. Knowing Professor Slughorn, this is not that difficult. He is so well known! How did you bribe him, crystallized pineapples?"

Life is flowing more and more powerfully in his veins with every sarcastic word he pronounces. He enjoys his strength coming back, although now he can perceive the girl physically retreating from him, her voice sounding incredulous and sad.

"I didn't… _buy_ my admission! I worked hard to improve my marks, because I've always wanted to be a Healer," she says in a resentful tone.

"How fascinating!" he answers acidly. "But I still believe you are too young to be a qualified Healer. May I ask why I must suffer your attention? Perhaps you are using me as a subject for your experiments?"

The girl swallows before replying. She seems to choose her words carefully, as if she is trying to remain calm and aloof. "I personally asked for the… the honour of assisting you while you were unconscious." Her voice trembles a little. "My primary duty was to check your condition, which I have done constantly for the entire time you have been here."

"What a commitment!" He sounds even more detestable. Obviously, her performance hasn't impressed him. On the contrary, he is decidedly infuriated that he's been seen in such a vulderable state, and worst of all, by one of his former students!

Suddenly, a new, disturbing thought crosses his mind.

"How long?" he asks brusquely.

The answer is shocking. "Twenty days, Professor."

"Twenty days… I have been here… for twenty days?" His voice is a whisper now, his hands shaking slightly.

She can see the different emotions twisting his mouth, which is the only visible portion of his face. Surely now he will understand her sacrifices and dedication. She hasn't slept properly in days! Lately, her head has been continuously spinning, and she has been seriously, even if reluctantly, considering the idea of asking for a substitute.

But he only sighs deeply, then he declares in his usual venomous tone, "I am sure you did your best, Miss Ingham. Best being obviously a relative term. Now, may I ask you a favour? Leave and send me a more competent person with whom I could talk."

Not a thank you or a word of acknowledgment… only contempt and harshness. She wonders what she was expecting, anyway. After all, he was her teacher for six long, insufferable years. She lowers her head and says quietly, struggling against tears of rage and humiliation, "I'll call a Senior Healer immediately, Professor."

She leaves the room quietly but, with his now sharpened senses, he can hear her just outside the door, speaking with someone else. Evidently, others have gathered by his room. He feels pleased he is finally considered important and his impatience rises consequently. He wants to know, he needs to know. He's already cursing himself for not having specifically asked for Poppy… because she is there, he knows it!

Then the voices become louder and he can hear distinctly the words pronounced by another astonished, older woman. "You mean he threw you out?"

The girl replies, her voice beginning to break. "I was so happy for him! Why does he have to act like that?"

"Because he is a bastard; hero or not, he always has had the same arrogant manner. You'd think he would have learned better, but some people simply can't! Now don't cry, dear, don't blame yourself. You did all you could, more than expected. Look how tired you are!"

The girl sounds rather childish with disappointment. "I… I thought he would have been happy to see one of his students!" Then, suddenly embarrassed, she stammers, "Well, I didn't exactly mean… _see_."

The other voice says with a practical, professional tone, "I know what you mean, dear, and this surely is one of the loveliest things you could wish for him. But with those eyes, I doubt he will ever be able to see again."

Words fade in the distance. The two women have gone somewhere else, leaving him in a cold sweat. His heart is sinking in desperation while his mind simply refuses to accept what he has just heard.

His eyes… lost forever? How can he live, how can he work, how can he practice magic without his sight? No, no, NO! It must be a mistake. Surely, he's confused, after all, he is ill. Twenty days in this bed, where is Poppy Pomfrey?

_WHERE IS POPPY POMFREY?!_

He is shouting now, his body is shaking in panic, his hands opening and clenching frantically, while the terrible words keep repeating in his head. "_But with those eyes, I doubt he will ever be able to see again… But with those eyes, I doubt it will ever be possible… But with those eyes, I doubt it will ever be possible… But with those eyes, I doubt it will ever be possible…_"

Suddenly, the door opens and slams with a powerful thud.

"Please wait outside, Becky, I'll take care of him," says the firm, reassuring voice of Poppy Pomfrey.

He stops thrashing immediately and tentatively extends a hand. "Poppy!" he whispers, shaking violently. "What happened to me? My eyes… are they lost?"

He feels her warm, comforting hands on his hands, then on his shoulders. "Severus! So you have finally awakened! I'm so happy!" Poppy is efficient as always, but he can perceive an uncharacteristic uneasiness in her usually brisk manner, and this makes him even more anxious. "Now calm down, I'm here to help you. Tell me, how do you feel?"

His shivers are slowly placating now though he is even more irritated and worried. Why is everybody being so kind and willing to reassure him? Why doesn't Poppy reply with her usual frankness? The pressure on his shoulders gets firmer. Reluctantly, he answers. "My head is aching terribly, and I'm feeling very weak," he admits grudgingly. "But that doesn't matter, I know everything will be all right soon. Meanwhile, my eyes… This blindfold… Poppy, please…" He has never sounded so imploring. He hates himself for being so helpless and the woman in front of him for keeping him in the dark.

"Severus, you have always been brave. Really…" Her hands hold him tightly to keep him from moving. "I think I should apologise for the many times I believed you were a traitor and wished you all the worst. Maybe this is not the right moment, but we all are in your debt now, and I will personally make sure that you have the best medical treatment. Please trust me."

Her voice is calming. She is a Healer and a professional, used to dealing with children often out of control. However, these expressions of sorrow are unexpected on her lips. Severus waits tensely. He doesn't want to interrupt, but he is scarcely interested in her apologies. His entire life had been full of hate, derision and contempt. Not even one person on either side he has served was ever a true friend, except for his great mentor and protector, Albus Dumbledore. So he never cared for feelings. Perhaps he might in the future, but what kind of future is waiting for him now?

Perfectly aware of his tension, Poppy continues, her hands always keeping him firmly settled. "Now I will explain what happened. You were brought here unconscious, so you weren't able to give us an explanation. We had to ask Harry Potter, the only one that was awake, wounded, but still responsive. Do you remember anything about the battle?"

"Just a part… Memories are still coming and going. I suppose the Dark Lord is no more?" he asks wearily, realising he doesn't effectively remember too much of what happened.

"Yes, Harry destroyed him, but he succeeded only because of your help, which is why everybody in the wizarding world is now greatly indebted to Severus Snape." A soft smile in her voice, then sorrow returns. "But our victory was a sad one, however, because of the many lives that were lost to defeat that vicious monster."

An impulsive, unexpected question rises and it surprises him. "Lupin?"

Her hands tighten abruptly. "Alive, but paralysed; he won't be able to walk ever again."

His reaction is frantic. "What do you mean, '_ever again'_?" he asks angrily. "You are Healers! Can't you help him? There must be a way!" And he feels uncomfortable, because he knows that it is not Lupin's tragedy that upsets him so much, but the sudden awareness that not all can be solved, even by magic.

"Severus, calm down!" Poppy reprimands him gently. "It's nice of you to be so concerned, because I remember well how you dislike him. But he was unfortunately hit by the Dark Lord himself! Dark Magic and a very powerful spell. There is nothing we can do for him at the moment, but we are trying very hard to find a solution, believe me. We owe him a lot, too."

"I'm glad to see how valuable we have become!" he snaps sarcastically.

"Severus!" Poppy is sad, but somewhat comforted to see him reacting the usual way.

He snorts. "Weasley?" he asks again.

"Which one?" The answer takes him by surprise. He hadn't thought of them as an entire family. But before he can reply, Poppy is already continuing. "Oh, sorry, I should have imagined, the youngest, Ronald. He, too, was found with you…Well, he…"

"He?" His tone is sharp.

"His body has been burnt almost completely by a Dark Curse. His skin has dried and become rigid; he can barely move his arms and legs without lacerating himself…" Her voice is trembling now.

He stiffens. What a price paid to save the world!

"Granger?" He is implacable.

"Oh, the poor one! She cried so much when she awakened. Her face is disfigured, like Weasley's body… And she can't speak properly, as her lips have been practically destroyed…"

Severus is storing all of this information mechanically. There is no more room inside to feel compassion. Only rage, terrible rage. He tightens his lips and Poppy, noticing it, turns professional again. "But there will be time later for this unfortunately sad news. Now, let's speak about you. You have been lying unconscious for twenty days. I think Becky Ingham already told you that."

Her tone now changes a little, becoming firm. "Incidentally, Severus, I don't think you conducted yourself appropriately with that girl. She has dedicated a lot of time to you. I know she is not a trained Healer, but she has good will, patience and resistance. These are the only and best qualities needed to tend a patient in the state you were… if 'patient' is a word that can ever be applied to you." She allows herself a quick joke, hoping to see a reaction.

He doesn't comment, and Poppy continues in that brisk, efficient tone doctors use when they want to mislead their listeners.

"Well, you are awake and in your usual grumpy mood. I believe that this is a clear sign of rapid recovery. Of course, you are weak now because you haven't eaten properly, but I'm certain that in a few…"

"Poppy!"

His hand has seized her wrist unexpectedly, with a force that leaves her astonished. But tears fill her eyes as she sees how much his hand is trembling.

"Poppy!" His voice is now a whisper, full of fear. "Have I become blind?" She hesitates and his grip tightens. "Please, tell me the truth!"

Silence. Again he implores, "Poppy, please…"

It's a plea, it's a hope, it's an anguished doubt, but she is troubled and uncertain about giving him a sincere reply. Never has she seen her usually short-tempered colleague so desperate! But he will have to know, sooner or later, and after all, he is Severus Snape. A wave of emotion washes over her body, and finally, Poppy nods in assent, even though he can't see her. She speaks concisely, in brief sentences.

"You too were hit by the Dark Lord's Curse. Your eyes are permanently burnt. More than burnt. They have become stones. I examined them personally while you were unconscious. It's Dark Magic. There is nothing we can do at the moment."

His hand stops trembling and he takes a deep breath. Then, abruptly, he releases his grip, crosses his arms brusquely over his chest and turns his head, as if refusing to listen anymore. Exactly the reaction she had feared.

"Severus!" She calls him forcefully now, almost shaking him. "You have always been brave, don't give up right now! There are other sources we can search… Please believe me! I will help you…"

"You are too late. Now please, leave me alone." His voice is cold, distant, bitter.

"Severus!"

"Go away!!!"

"Severus…" she pleads once more, but his face is dark and brooding. She knows him too well to attempt saying something else. Her news was too much for him to handle at once.

Sighing hopelessly, Poppy resumes her professional, detached tone. "We will be constantly here, so please, do not hesitate to call me or Becky Ingham if…"

"I don't want to see that girl anymore!" he replies brusquely and irately, before realizing what he has just said. How ironic the everyday sentences in life have become! Suddenly, he feels as if something is cracking inside him, and he curls into a ball, pushing his hands on his useless eyes. His body begins to shiver uncontrollably, then the shudders become more and more intense, while little gasping sobs escape his lips.

Poppy sadly watches the total defeat, the final humiliation of a man that has always perfectly ruled his emotions, who was even able to suppress them completely if he considered it necessary. Moved, she turns her head away, feeling like an intruder in such a private moment. Not wanting to embarrass him even more, she backs away, noisily enough to let him know that she is leaving.

And suddenly, another terrible realisation comes to her. He cannot cry! His dry orbs cannot produce fluid any more, and this will certainly make his desperation even more painful without the gentle, soothing consolation of tears washing away his sorrow.

Poppy shakes her head in discomfort then slowly retreats and exits quietly, leaving him alone. But, as soon as the door closes after her, she leans against the wooden frame and listens in anguish to the sounds of his torment, feeling on her cheeks the warm drops he can no longer shed.


	3. Memories

**A Matter of Will**

by Lady Memory

(simply Memory in SH and TPP)

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer: **I don't obviously own anyone of the characters in this story, even if I would like to._

_**Warning**: I'm Italian, so my English may sound strange to native ears. My fantastic betas have done their best to give a sense to my wild writing. Infinite grateful thanks to **Jynx67** for her patience and perseverance, and to **Pennfana** for her useful considerations._

_**Important**: A lot of thanks also to the kind people who are reading my story. I sincerely hope you won't be disappointed. _

_**Finally, and very important too, this is NOT a romance.** So, if you are looking for our dear Professor falling in love with somebody, perhaps better choose another story. ;)_

**Chapter 3 – Memories**

Severus is alone again in the darkness. Is it day? Is it night? What does it matter? There is no difference to him anymore! His head is aching terribly and his mind is wandering, relentlessly following the path of desperation.

What is going to happen now? How is going to manage his life without sight? Proud as he has always been, how can he spend the rest of his days surrounded by pity and commiseration? A man whose eyes could read even the deepest layers of a soul!

As minutes slowly elapse in the shadows, he keeps asking himself "why?" Why him? Why now? Why is he so cruelly being punished, just at the end of his long and painful journey? Will there never be repentance for the faults he has committed? Has an entire adulthood of sacrifices and solitude been completely worthless?

The thought of his other unfortunate companions crosses his mind in a flash and he shivers, realizing how cruelly they have been punished too… even if, differently from him, they hadn't committed any crime for which they needed to make amends!

He retreats in rage. He doesn't care! He doesn't care, because nobody has ever cared for him. At least they can… they could… they might… His mind explores furiously every option, searching for a difference, and finally finds it. The others are not alone! This knowledge hurts him so utterly. Every one of them has somebody who cares! But what about him? The only one who promised him salvation, the great Albus Dumbledore, is definitely and forever gone, murdered by the hand of the man he had contributed to save, leaving that same man burdened with the weight of this action for the rest of his life. It doesn't matter that Albus' death was a highly unpleasant but possible occurrence that had been carefully planned and painfully executed. On his hands, Severus has the blood of his only benefactor. The mistakes he made in his youth will never disappear. So much time and effort he has dedicated to his redemption, only to discover that evidently, Fate never accepted his offer. His role was to be a sacrificial victim, right from the beginning. He never had rights, chances or hopes, and he will never have. His life has reached its peak and stopped there… forever.

He curls on the bed he is beginning to consider as his personal cell and closes his mind to everything. Pain is still haunting him, forceful, continuous, distressing... He sometimes thinks that it must be something connected with his wounds, because it is located around his eyes and seems to dig inside. But he is going to keep it at bay; it's simple when you know how to do it. It is a matter of will, as all his life has been.

However, tomorrow… today? Well, as soon as somebody comes in, he is going to ask to remove those damned bandages and have his eyes checked again.

Slowly, very slowly and wearily, his head falls down, his eyelids close on his useless pupils and he enters again in the merciless world of memories.

----

_The passage lights up sinisterly, when three different spells collide with an explosion of glittering sparks. Silence falls abruptly, an incredibly astonished silence, as the Dark Lord angrily discovers he's been betrayed once more; meanwhile, Harry Potter incredulously realizes he is still alive._

_Then Harry's eyes widen in sudden understanding as he turns to stare at the panting Severus, who has collapsed again in the mud after that terrible effort. But there is no time to thank his saviour as he would like. The Dark Lord is already advancing, a frightening expression on his hideous features. He is raising his hand again when Harry, with an impulsive decision, points his wand at the ground, uttering a sharp command. Instantaneously, many great blocks rise from the floor and begin to clash against one another with loud thundering sounds. The Dark Lord is taken by surprise. Another harsh order and the big stones wrap around the infuriated Voldemort, closing him solidly in a suffocating hold. Immediately, Harry runs near his exhausted Professor and crouches by his side, grabbing him by his shoulders. Severus looks at him in weariness. _

"_You saved my life!" the boy exclaims, incredulous, his voice coloured by a mixture of amazement and respect._

"_I did, Potter, but I can't promise I'll do it again." Snape is sharp, as usual, while he shakes Harry's hands from his shoulders in irritation. "Give me back… my wand!" he murmurs as he sways and struggles to rise, paling in the effort._

"_Here, let me help you!" Harry seizes the older man's arms to lift him. Suddenly, the rocky wall breaks, throwing stones and dust so violently around that the boy barely has the time to protect him and his companion. _

_The Dark Lord emerges from the crumbled walls of his prison, awesome in his fury, and again advances implacably towards the boy, who has risen and is now fiercely standing in front of him. The red, feral eyes of the old wizard are glowing with rage, but this time Harry is feeling oddly at peace. Fear has totally abandoned him. His gaze slowly contemplates the abandoned bodies of his friends lying motionless in oblivion, unaware that the final sacrifice is about to happen. Then his eyes rest, still incredulous, on his only surviving companion, really the last one he would have thought to have at his side._

_Still knelt on the ground, Severus, unable to rise, lowers his head in bitter resignation. He is too exhausted to fight and, in any case, there is no hope. There has never been. Discouraged, in a fit of impotent anger, he raises his eyes to look at the boy who should have been their rescuer. Severus has saved Harry, yet he still detests the boy so much! How many lives have been sacrificed for him? Was he ever worth all these losses?_

_Harry seems to read all the anguished doubts in the orbs of the man he once believed to be an enemy and who is now staring so anxiously at him. Again, his gaze lovingly embraces his friends, and a deep emotion strengthens his heart, the firm conviction that he will never abandon them as they have never abandoned him. He can feel all the love he has received during these last years gathering around him and enfolding him like armour. Unexpectedly, he smiles, and it makes him feel invincible. His eyes are serene while he raises his wand, inviting his dark adversary to strike._

_But, strangely, Voldemort is standing still now, nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing at the perception of a strange, subtle change in the atmosphere. There is something happening that he doesn't understand. A new, indefinite but immense power has joined them, and he is alarmed. The words of the prophecy that he has never been able to hear completely are haunting his soul. He stops, hesitating for a moment and that little, almost imperceptible indecision fills Harry with a supernatural hope. _

_Then the new powerful presence enters forcefully and reveals itself in its glory. Harry's wand slowly begins to vibrate gently, then more and more intensely, uncontrollable in its strength, until it appears to be gradually lifting the boy's hand in a gesture of command._

_Voldemort watches in astonishment and his eyes widen with uncharacteristic anxiety when, unpredictably, also his wand begins to shake violently. He looks surprised then worried, while he desperately tries to keep it still, tightening his grip. But the power is too strong to be stopped even for him and, incredibly, the more he struggles, the more the wand pushes him back, until he is forced to kneel._

_Sparkles of pure, incandescent, intolerably brilliant light begin to dance in the darkness. Soon they form a luminous stream, whirling more and more powerfully until they gather in a forceful flow that, with a blinding flash, surrounds Harry in a glittering aura._

_The boy shivers in blissful ecstasy. Then his mouth opens to pronounce words of spell so arcane he can't absolutely know and that must have been clearly suggested by the mysterious, nameless power. The light reacts with a joyful twinkle and slowly, the boy's body seems to multiply itself in several glowing, ghostly forms. _

_While the Dark Lord and Severus Snape stare in terrified wonder, every spectral shape gently bows its head in a greeting then rises firmly, positioning itself at Harry's side. Watching in awe, Severus recognizes the smiling faces of Lily Evans and James Potter, then, totally unexpected, Sirius Black, and finally, with a terrible pang of joy and pain, Albus Dumbledore._

_Harry seems to suddenly awaken, and with an overwhelming cry of happiness, he turns to look at his parents and friends, eyes luminous with tears. The pearly figures surround the boy, shining in diaphanous beauty. Their movements are slow and solemn, but the pure joy and love they radiate are so intense that Severus is forced to lower his eyes, his body aching with exclusion._

_Completely unmindful of his dreadful antagonist, Harry now bathes in his parents' smiles, timidly trying to touch their incorporeal bodies. The tremulous look he gives Sirius, eyes wet in commotion, is returned by such a vivid grin that the boy can't help but laugh. Finally, the figures turn expectantly to Albus Dumbledore, who has been patiently waiting, a kind smile under the merrily twinkling eyes that Harry remembers so well. And surprisingly, Albus speaks, a remote voice coming from unknown, unfathomable depths lost in time and in space._

"_Harry, my dear, dear boy! How happy I am to see you! We were all looking forward to this meeting. I hope we haven't made you wait too long!"_

"_Professor!" Harry is crying now, so great is the joy he feels. He doesn't care anymore if he is going to die, as he is surrounded by his most loved ones. And surely also his best friends, whose bodies lay motionless at his feet, will join him soon in that new perfect world, thus making it even more perfect, if possible… But understanding his thoughts, the ancient wizard shakes his head in denial, his smile becoming sad and determined._

"_No, Harry, it is not time for you to leave yet. We are here only to assist you in your task, because the force of your love called us. Do you remember what I told you, Harry? The power you have been filled with, the inestimable gift your mother left you with her sacrifice?"_

_Harry is looking at his mother now, tears streaming on his cheeks. "Yes, Professor," he whispers softly, and a new determination pervades his soul. Fiercely he raises his head and his wand, nodding. As if they had expected that signal, all the ghosts turn to stare at the Dark Lord, who has been witnessing in mute alarm, unsuccessfully trying to rise from his kneeling posture._

_Dumbledore walks solemnly towards his old student, magnificence and authority radiating forcefully from his person. "So, we meet again, Tom!" His voice sounds incredibly kind, even if is tinged with an immense sadness. _

_Still struggling in the effort of controlling his wand, Voldemort answers in a strangled tone. "Dumbledore! I thought you were dead! You must be dead! My followers… They were on the tower when Severus killed you…" He realizes his mistake suddenly. "Oh, but now I understand! It was a ruse! He never really struck you!" He is frantically searching an explanation for this prodigy surpassing his understanding._

"_No, Tom." Such painful intensity was in the old man's expression! "Severus had to kill me that night… as I ordered him. My life for Draco's. A fair exchange." _

_He slowly turns his head to glance at Severus, a gentle, acknowledging nod. It's the first time he seems to recognize his presence, and Severus again feels an acute pang of jealousy, bitterness suddenly invading his soul. Not a word for him, not even a greeting? Does he deserve only such little consideration from his old protector? Anger and hostility against the Boy-Who-Lived raise once more their heads in his chest. But the moment has already passed, and Dumbledore turns again and listens to the Dark Lord._

_Voldemort is attentively considering his adversary. Now that the first frightening sensations are over, he seems to have regained his confidence. "Why are you here, then, if you are dead, Dumbledore? To take the boy? To… fight with me?" _

"_Again, no, Tom. I'm not allowed to interfere. I am here only to talk, to speak with you and possibly make your mind, if not your heart, finally open in understanding."_

"_Your efforts are useless then." The Dark Lord is reassured and cruelly pleased. This smiling ghost of the once tremendous wizard he remembered - the only one he had effectively feared - can't be a real menace anymore. "We have had plenty of time to talk… in your previous life. Now you are only a powerless shadow. Your nonsense isn't going to convince me today, in the hour of my most glorious victory. " _

"_It may not convince you, I admit. But you see, I didn't come here only for you." Dumbledore points his wand to the ground and a glittering ray gently illuminates Wormtail's motionless body. "Can you hear me, Peter?" the old man asks compassionately. _

_A sudden tremble and, with a painful moan, Peter Pettigrew stretches a hand forward, then he tries to lift his shaking body on his hands and knees, but he falls miserably in the mud again. Everybody pauses to look at him in silence. Only the Dark Lord cannot prevent an uncontrollable flinch, as he sees his victim slowly come back to life._

_Peter makes another pitiful attempt to move, then, unable to support the weight of his failing body any longer, he raises a devastated face. A violent emotion twists his lips, curling them in a painful smile. Breathing with difficulty, he focuses his cloudy eyes on the group protectively gathered around Harry and he whispers in tears, "James… Lily… Sirius… My friends… My dear old friends… I'm sorry… so sorry…"_

_Lily has a gentle, compassionate smile. She glances encouragingly at her son and husband then walks towards the fallen, crying man. Peter is exhausted, his forces are quickly fading, but he makes a last effort to look at the radiant woman bending close to listen to his words. _

"_Please, forgive me… Please…" he stammers with difficulty, his jaws already hardening in the imminent end._

_Once more, Lily has a luminous smile and replies tenderly, "You saved my son today, Peter. You paid for your faults and I forgive you. May you rest in peace forever."_

_James and Sirius frown hesitantly, then they advance to join Lily. Their voices are remote, but when they speak, they sound surprisingly clear._

"_You were my friend once, Peter. I forgive you. May you rest in peace," says James quietly._

_Sirius shakes his head with an uncharacteristically embarrassed barking laugh. "For Merlin's sake, Peter! It would have been better if I hadn't entrusted you with that secret so many years ago! But I imagine I should also blame myself for that…" His voice softens while he adds, "Rest in peace, old friend. You are forgiven."_

_Peter manages a last, incredible, infinitely peaceful smile. Then his eyes flicker and his body falls heavily in the mud, lying lifeless. _

_The ghostly figures bow reverently. Severus is trembling in awe and weariness while Harry smiles in renewed joy, cheeks dampened by tears. Only Voldemort dares to break the silence with his high-pitched, derisive laugh._

"_He finally died, as every traitor ought to," he says scornfully. "And he'll never return to life again, whatever you may say. What did you want to demonstrate by that, you old fool? I am the only one who has successfully come back from death. I cannot be defeated by any living being!"_

_Dumbledore looks at the dark wizard with a helpless sigh. "Once I told you that there are things worse than death, Tom, do you remember? But you still don't understand. I believe you will never understand, and this makes me feel definitely hopeless."_

_Then patiently, as if he were speaking with a child, he said, "Your Horcruxes have been destroyed. All, completely and totally, until the last one. You cannot count on them anymore. Perhaps you thought to have a hope, even without your serpent. Well, forget it now. You cannot rely on them any longer."_

"_You are lying, Dumbledore! This cannot be true!" For the very first time, Harry can see fear - more than fear, terror - in the Dark Lord's eyes, while he struggles desperately against the power controlling his wand. _

_Dumbledore seems to take a deep breath. "For the last, the supreme time, Tom, I'm telling you the truth. This is your final chance to recognize your faults. You cannot be granted mercy if you refuse to accept!"_

"_I will never bow to your requests!" It's the firm, ferocious answer, followed by a cry of wild joy, as the wand begins to slow down its convulsive movements._

"_Then you have made your choice and decided your fate! Our time is ending. We'll never meet again in this world, Tom," the ancient wizard says with a sigh._

"_Then we'll never meet forever, Dumbledore, because I will win and rule over death once more!" The Dark Lord is triumphant now. "Go back to your shadowy realm, you and your ghostly allies! Your moment is over!"_

_Dumbledore looks at Voldemort impassively, then, turning his shoulders to him, he approaches Harry and says quietly, "Be thou of good hope, Harry. We will always be with you, even if you can't see us. May your arm be steady, and may love and courage guide you in this last battle."_

_Dumbledore seems ready to join the other spirits respectfully waiting for him, when he suddenly meets Severus' gaze. Shaking his head in disbelief, the ancient wizard turns again to look down with a smile at the shattered man who has fought so bravely to follow his orders, although so many times he has vehemently protested against them. "Ah, Severus, my dear boy!" he exclaims softly, bending as to embrace him. "It's so beautiful to see you again! Please excuse an old, absent-minded man. I didn't forget you and your commitment, even if, alas, somebody else will have to properly repay you for all the times I didn't. At present, I can only offer you my most grateful thanks along with a very important piece of advice, which I hope you will accept in the name of our old friendship. A hard time is coming for you, Severus, a very hard time, and you'll have to muster all your forces to overcome it. So, be prepared and don't forget my words! When those obscure days arrive, and this will happen soon, listen to your heart as you did so many years ago… and you will finally find the happiness you deserve so much." _

_Then, lowering his head in a goodbye, he adds tenderly, "I bless you both, my beloved children. Remember, don't ever give up hope, never!"_

_One by one, the pearly figures extend their right hands to wrap Harry's wrist in an incorporeal grip. Dumbledore is the last one to add his hand when, unexpectedly, the Dark Lord regains control and immediately lifts his wand to cast a spell. The hex passes through the old wizard's ethereal body and bounces against the rocky wall. With a wild laugh, Voldemort rises violently from the ground and shouts exultantly, eyes glowing in folly, "I may not be able to hurt you anymore, old man, but, if you can't be harmed, perhaps the boy will!"_

_Another blast of light travels at mad speed through the air and hits Harry brutally, tracing a red gash on his cheek. The boy widens his eyes and gives a painful gasp, immediately followed by Voldemort's triumphant laughter. "You are mine, Potter! Finally, you are mine!"_

_With a shiver, the pale figures abruptly disappear in a flash of light. The dark wizard and the boy now proudly face each other, while time seems suspended in eternity. Suddenly, they raise their wands and fiercely aim them. Rays of lights explode and intersect in the darkness, sending sparkles everywhere. Both the adversaries fight ferociously, and incredibly, the boy matches the old man in might and ability. Severus stares in amazement at this unexpected spectacle, his body trembling more and more with exhaustion. _

("Professor, are you all right? Professor Snape? … Please wake up. Is there anything you need? … Professor, please answer me!")

_The battle of spells fights furiously, when, with a cruel, determined smile, Voldemort summons all his powers to cast an ultimate Hex. The boy is quick to raise his wand and stop the mortal ray in mid air, but the evil forces generated by his wicked antagonist seem too strong to be resisted, even by his new supernatural powers, and the flux of energy inexorably pushes him back against the rocky wall._

_As soon as Harry touches the stones with his shoulders and the Dark Lord gives an exultant, vicious laugh, Severus comes to a decision. Gritting his teeth and trying to resist the pain torturing his worn-out body, he struggles to stand up and help his most hated student. If they have to die, at least let it be fighting._

("Professor, Professor, please! What's happening? Madam Pomfrey! Madam Pomfrey!!!")

_But, before Snape can make a move, Harry grabs his own wand with both hands, holding it firmly with obstinate desperation. Then, a terrible sound of anguish and pain begins to well in his throat, while he writhes under the wicked forces trying to break his resistance. Gradually, his lament grows in intensity until it transforms itself into a powerful cry, a mighty enchanted call asking for help. His wand reacts, vibrating forcefully, and the malignant ray begins to pulse less and less vigorously until it finally explodes in a myriad of little sparks. _

("I am here, Becky, let me see! Severus! It's a nightmare! Severus, please, wake up! Merlin! He is having an attack!")

_A deep, loud, prolonged musical sound follows Harry's call, and soon the darkness is echoing with thundering noises, as if a great storm was approaching. The Dark Lord is forced back with a last powerful effort, and there he stops, panting in apprehension, wand lifted in anxious wait. Then abruptly, with a profound vibration that shakes the castle in a violent spasm, ghostly hands begin to surge from the ground, while an icy, freezing breath fills the air. In a few moments, the spectral essences seem to multiply, encircling Voldemort and grasping his robes with their pale, skeletal fingers._

_The Dark Lord's black outline begins to blur and fade at their touch, and the old wizard screams in pain and terror, as his body begins to sink slowly into the ground. His terrified cries make Severus shiver in horror, while he watches his previous Master vainly struggle against the inexorable power of the shadowy presences. Harry stands in silence, looking at the Dark Lord's hopeless ordeal with eyes full of tears, arms crossed, head proudly raised in determination. His gaze quickly turns to meet Severus', reassuring him with a nod. For a moment, Severus can perceive the immense power concealed in the boy and lowers his head in respect, ashamed of his own frailty._

("He is not reacting! His pulse has become erratic! Quick, help me!")

_Voldemort is rapidly weakening, and his body is becoming more and more vague and indistinct. Helpless and desperate, the Dark Lord raises his wand and frantically but uselessly tries to strike the spirits surrounding him. Then in a last spark of hatred, feeling his life fading away, he furiously aims his wand at Harry in vengeance. The boy smiles and simply lifts his hand to stop the deadly rays. So mighty is the power acting inside him that he doesn't even need a wand to protect himself! As the last quivers shake Voldemort's body, his red, furious eyes feverishly search for another victim… and find it. The Dark Lord and Severus Snape exchange a final, supreme glance then, with his vanishing forces, the older wizard casts his last, revengeful, terrible hex. _

"Obscuro!" 

_Instantly, a red blast of energy explodes and sharply penetrates into Severus's eyes. An atrocious, intolerable pain travels through his head, piercing his skull like a burning blade. He screams in terror, then a sudden, blessed oblivion welcomes him into its dark embrace. _

On the other side of the universe, Severus abruptly opens his useless eyes with a cry of panic, searching for light, unaware of where he is, confused, terrified. His nightmare was so terribly vivid! Frightening images are still dancing in his mind, and he convulses in violent spasms as he relives those last dreadful moments: the daunting spectral hands, Voldemort laughing in folly, and Harry Potter, suddenly alarmed, lifting his wand in a defensive but vain gesture.

He struggles desperately against the arms that are holding him, until he recognizes Poppy's soft, worried voice calling his name. Then, feeling protected, he allows himself to calm down, searching for comfort in her warm, tender touch. His eyes are hurting so much! For a moment that seems to last eternally, he rests himself in her gentle hold.

Then, pride and anger awaken and again he is Severus Snape. Angrily, he disentangles from her embrace and tries to sit up on the bed, but he is still too weak to afford this kind of violent reaction. Feeling suddenly dizzy, he leans back with a moan and helplessly disappears into a dreamless void.


	4. A study in black

**A Matter of Will**

by Lady Memory

(simply Memory in SH and TPP)

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer: **I don't obviously own anyone of the characters in this story, even if I would like to._

_**Warning**: I'm Italian, so my English may sound strange to native ears. My fantastic betas have done their best to give a sense to my wild writing. Infinite grateful thanks to **Jynx67** for her patience and perseverance, and to **Pennfana** for her useful considerations._

_**Important**: A lot of thanks also to the kind people who are reading my story, particularly to the ones who left me a message. Thank you very much for taking the time to review._

**Chapter 4 – A study in black**

_This chapter is dedicated to my aunt Lia (Giulia), a sweet, intrepid little woman born at the beginning of the XX century. Due to a rare and, at that time, incurable disease, her sight slowly faded away when she was barely older than thirty, leaving her eyes imprisoned in a perpetual world of darkness. As I was one of her youngest nieces, I got to know her only when she was already in her late years: a patient, quiet, tender old woman who had accepted and survived this sad destiny clinging tenaciously to her memories, and who savoured in gratitude every little joy and emotion that life could still offer. _

_Thankfully, my aunt had been spared many troubles and sufferings. Living in a little town, she was always surrounded by several affectionate friends who were willing to fill with love a life that, otherwise, would have been wasted in solitude and sadness. _

_But although my aunt was a serene, even joyful creature, in the few periods I had the chance to stay with her, I could easily understand how painfully limiting blindness can be, and how defenceless are those who experience this cruel imperfection._

_So, some of the considerations expressed in this chapter stem straight from my past personal experiences. Please take my words as a loving tribute to the courage of a kind, tender woman who could only listen to my voice while she longed so much to see my features._

_Thank you, Auntie Lia, for showing me the real meaning of the word "brave"._

-----

Severus is sitting in an armchair. His cell has expanded. After a few days of continuous improvements in his physical condition, he is allowed to rise and enjoy a little walk in his room. Poppy Pomfrey and Becky Ingham are constantly there to help him and guide his uncertain steps, clasping his cold, rough hand with their soft, warm fingers.

After that first discussion with Poppy, he hasn't renewed his request to have Becky removed, but in a way, his relationship with the girl has worsened. He is now arrogantly condescending, cruelly polite and positively sulky. His sarcastic remarks and harsh comments about her ability often push her to a breaking point. But she resists. With her own great amazement, she has discovered an inner force she didn't know she possessed, and this quiet recognition motivates her even more. In addition, she has begun to understand his psyche, and this is the main reason that keeps her at his side, although she must bite her tongue to avoid a sharp reply each time he deigns to talk with her. However, it's a subtle revenge and a grim satisfaction that the man who has haunted her first six years at school with reprimands and detentions is now totally depending on her.

On the contrary, Poppy is very patient with him and he can't understand why. Well, at the beginning, even Poppy couldn't understand why, as her actual attitude is the result of a long bout with regret and compassion.

Madam Pomfrey is a mature, calm, efficient woman who isn't prone at getting emotionally involved with her patients, as every good doctor should be. "You can't cure somebody if you contract their disease"; it's her favourite motto, and one of her most appreciated qualities is the brisk but kind manner she uses to deal with people. This characteristic is very well known, as generations of children at Hogwarts have benefited from her quiet, amused understanding when in trouble. But in spite of her highly tolerant nature, Madam Pomfrey must admit that the only one she has never really managed to accept - or to trust completely - has been, beyond a doubt, Severus Snape. Right from the first moment that their new Potions Master entered the castle, she had started to dislike him. He had already been a nasty, unpleasant boy when in school, but as a man, she had found him even more unattractive, bad mannered, exasperating, arrogant, and a lot of other negative traits. Of course, she has always been careful to conceal her feelings, luckily helped by the fact that there were few opportunities for them to share each other's company, except in the few, rare times he accompanied one of his favourite students to the infirmary.

Now, in hindsight, after a war in which he behaved as a hero (at least according to Harry Potter, but why should she doubt?), she realizes that her opinion has been sadly and greatly incorrect, and that he must have had at least some good (although invisible) quality… otherwise Dumbledore wouldn't have relied so heavily on him. Therefore being a straight, honest person, the recurrent thought of having misjudged - and therefore condemned - a man without proof hurts her conscience painfully, making her feel deeply uncomfortable.

As a consequence, her attitude towards him begins to soften. During the long days in which Severus lies motionless in oblivion, his features revealing unmercifully every one of his inner emotions, she is constantly at his side. And when he finally awakens in desperate blindness, she becomes even more concerned and thoughtful, observing his anger and desolation increase. She is aware that he needs support and a guide to learn how to live in this new world of shadows. But knowing her former colleague too well, she can easily imagine how intolerable it will be for him to depend on somebody else's pity. Bringing this thought to its natural conclusion, Poppy is soon psychologically ready to propose herself as his medical supervisor.

The other mediwizards are greatly relieved. Nobody really likes the man, hero or not. Too many strange facts, too many terrible events in his life; his dark character, his strong connections with so many notorious Death Eaters and his questionable role at the Dark Lord's service make him suspect and unwelcome, even after his "redemption". In addition, there are so many other patients in the hospital needing attention! The decision to entrust Poppy with his care is therefore unanimous.

Now, the first days are tough to manage. Wounded, suffering and overreacting, he is living in a constant emotional storm, rebelling against his condition and violently rejecting the help he is offered. Consequently, Poppy is forced to hold her ground and to be as nasty as he is, imposing her authority with great determination. It is a hard struggle of wills, and when they both seem to have finally reached an agreement, she finds herself entangled in several new, unpleasant and completely unpredicted difficulties.

Annoying, but luckily simple to resolve, the first problem she needs to deal with is the question of his wand because, defenceless as he feels, he immediately asked for it as soon as he awakened. Understanding his anxiety, Poppy is ready to reassure him. His wand was found in the Dungeons after the battle and was brought immediately to St. Mungo's, where it was seized by the Security Department. At his immediate, angry protests, she firmly declared that no one except Mediwizards is allowed to keep a "potential weapon" in the hospital wards; therefore, his wand had to be stored in a safe, protected place. In a way, this is true, and he has resentfully accepted to submit to the rule. But Poppy knows very well that this cannot be the real reason for keeping his wand so carefully locked away…

It has been the continuous coming and going of the Ministry's folks enquiring about his conditions that has put her on alert. Although all this attention could be seen as proof of his importance and perhaps offers him a consolation, she has deliberately chosen to keep him unaware of this. Because, wise old woman as she is, Poppy has the uncomfortable feeling that his worries are not over, and that even more annoying troubles are going to arrive, probably from the same ungrateful people he has contributed to save.

The second problem has been his isolation. Very few people are allowed in his room, and they are always the same: Madam Pomfrey, her assistant, Miss Ingham, and occasionally, another woman that helps them with little tasks. This last person in particular is really only a voice to him, as he barely knows her name. She is too respectful – or better, too afraid – to exchange more than few, timid words with Severus the rare times he decides to speak.

So feeling cut off, as soon as his physical conditions improve and his mind regains its balance, Severus has cautiously begun to ask about the "others." Having been told about the sad condition of the ones who have had the dubious honour to be struck with him by the Dark Lord in the final battle, he now wants to know more about the remaining players of that wicked contest, the ones who are still in this world, and the ones who have definitely left it. Encouraged by these first tentative signals of interest, Poppy supplies him with carefully selected information.

The primary object of his questions is, of course, his nemesis and eternal antagonist, the ghost that constantly haunts his dreams, the one he has ended up considering as the other side of his personality: Harry Potter. Why hasn't he shown up during all these days? What is he doing at present? Patiently, Poppy tells him that Harry has come many times to ask about his former Professor while visiting his other friends in the hospital, but Severus was still unconscious. Now Harry has left for a sudden engagement, a trip that Madam Pomfrey reasonably suspects to be only an excuse to escape the extreme pressure he is continuously undergoing. But he has promised to return soon, and then he will surely come again to see Severus.

Forgetting about Potter for the moment, Severus successively learns that many other people are luckily still alive, and that some didn't even need to pass through St. Mungo's. That's the case, for instance, for Nymphadora Tonks, who comes everyday to visit Remus Lupin and try to cheer him up a little. Also, Mad-Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt have incredibly not even been scratched, as well as Ginny Weasley and her twin brothers. However, many other losses have occurred, and very painful ones. The same Weasley family, for instance, is mourning their intrepid knight of the dragons. Eagerly arrived from Romania, Charlie Weasley was killed by a dark curse while he was trying to protect his younger sister…

About his ex-fellows Death Eaters, some were sent to Azkaban, some are still waiting to be processed. Severus is weirdly pleased to hear that Lucius Malfoy, who never managed to escape from his prison and join the Dark Lord, was conceded a visit from his wife and son. Narcissa and Draco are waiting for their trial, too, but it seems that they could benefit from a special consideration, as they had been secretively passing information to the Ministry during the last few months. It was Severus' merit, of course, even if nobody knows it, and he took a great risk revealing himself to the lady and the boy. Obviously, he hadn't been so foolish as to tell them the authentic truth! He has simply disguised the matter under a vest of advantage, letting them understand that the Dark Lord was given too scarce chances of victory to make their staying at his side worthwhile.

It had anyway been hazardous, as both the woman and the lad could have betrayed him, ruining his final plan. But luckily, they were too scared by the Dark Lord and too confident in Severus to even think of such a dangerous possibility. So, Severus now sombrely considers that they could have sent at least a message of thanks. No one seems to remember that he is alive and alone, blind and helpless because of his commitment to the cause. He comes to the bitter conclusion that he has been sacrificed as a worthless pawn, and this intensifies his resentment against the world.

As days monotonously go by and he tries to get accustomed to his new, imperfect life, more worries and fears add their weight to his already burdened shoulders, making his days an endless struggle against the many doubts and anguishes his limitation incessantly generates. Being a proud, arrogant man who has suffered so much the horror of being taunted in his youth, Severus' greatest, most haunting fear is to be observed and criticized without having even the slightest possibility of being aware.

Surrounded as he is by darkness, people around him have become a mystery. No more chances to understand, foretell or manipulate their reactions while, on the contrary, he is unmercifully exposed to their gazes. Although he tries to improve his other senses, he can only and primitively perceive changes in moods and tones, slight differences in vocal inflections and all those eloquent, terrible little pauses that he never noticed before in a conversation, and that now seem to recur so frequently.

Unsurprisingly, his skills are very limited. He has always depended so much on his sight! His eyes have been more than essential for his survival, and this is why he fights with all his forces to overcome his imperfection, refusing to be trapped in its limits. So every day, he opens his eyelids in the desperate, impossible hope of a miracle. Every night, he closes them in a mute prayer. And every morning, he feels unreasonably frustrated, discovering that nothing has happened.

Now he painfully understands what it means to be completely helpless! And this inner, immense vulnerability soon becomes the source of his second greatest fear as well: being helpless, therefore being ridiculous. The first time he tried to eat his meal by himself, for instance, he inadvertently stained his chin and his robes. Always solicitous, Miss Ingham has instantly been ready to clean him with a towel…like she would have done with a baby. His reaction has been immediate and, as always, excessive. Rising furiously to his feet, he violently pushed the table away, scattering dishes and food noisily on the floor. Then, rudely shaking off the hand she had placed on his arm in a vain attempt to calm his anger, he tried to reach his favourite armchair by himself, shouting and menacing the girl in impotent rage. Silent under the storm, Becky felt incredibly sorry for him… but also deeply scared, as if she was again a student in his class. Tears pricking the corners of her eyes, she began to stammer in confusion, but only to freeze in sudden horror when, unable to see the danger, he slipped and fallen on the soiled floor, thus definitely loosing the little dignity he still possessed.

Thankfully, alarmed by his incoherent yells, Madam Pomfrey immediately rushed in, taking the situation under control with two firm reprimands. One - public and meant to calm him - to Miss Ingham for her immature behaviour. The second - later, private and stern - to him for _his_ equally immature behaviour.

Needless to say, the girl is afraid to enter his room in the following days. However, this humiliating experience has at least taught him to manage his outbursts with more composure. But his is a hopeless battle, as his imperfection is continually adding great and little fears to the ones already existing, like unbreakable rings in an endless chain of sufferings.

The fear of being defenceless. Once a man who was living constantly on alert, impossible to catch unprepared, now he is totally exposed in his shameful frailty. Everybody can reach him, surprise him, harm him, without any chance for him to detect it and therefore react properly. Understanding his uneasiness, Poppy and Becky are always careful to let him know where they are, what they are doing and what they intend to do. They are even more careful when what they need to do involves physical contact or just staying close to him.

The fear of forgetting faces, places, situations, colours; in a word, the main part of the existence he has previously lived. Being enwrapped in total obscurity, he is painfully surprised to discover that images are somewhat slowly fading in his mind. Sometimes he can recall a whole picture, sometimes he can only "see" it partially. Other times he can remember bodies, but not faces, words, but not expressions. Occasionally, his visual memories are changed or distorted in ways he cannot control anymore. So, more and more often, he experiences the uncontrollable need to be able to see persons and places again, even if only for a moment, to focus and fix and readjust his disappearing reminiscences. But he cannot, he cannot, he cannot anymore! while his longing grows stronger and desperately painful.

And finally, the most frightening of his terrors, the total, absolute fear by whom all his other fears are generated: the horror of wandering in a world of shadows, populated by fiends that he alone can see. As light cannot filter through his stony pupils any longer, his wake and sleep processes gradually begin to alter. Soon there is no difference between day and night, but on the contrary, nights quickly become intolerable pauses in which he is exposed, alone and unprotected against his dark ghosts. Nobody is there, not even Poppy or Becky, and he is left in his solitary meditation, with no sounds or activities to interrupt or distract him from this forced contemplation. Often he falls in nightmares that make him awaken, screaming in terror, damped in cold sweat, shaking in anguish. In these moments, Poppy is the only one he admits in his room, as she alone is allowed to see him in his most abject desolation.

As days endlessly go by, hours and rhythms begin to mix in an inextricable chaos. Feeling protected by the armchair's rigid structure, soon he elects it as his favourite refuge and begins to spend the most part of his nights curled there. During the days, reassured by the quiet, alternating presence of his two assistants, he occasionally falls into little, soothing rests. He knows that both women are ready to awaken him gently, should they see that he is entering in his dark tunnel, but their kind compassion doesn't relieve his anxiety; on the contrary, it exasperates him deeply.

Sometimes Poppy has thought to propose him a pastime, like a game, a chat, reading or something similar to distract and relax him by keeping him busy. But what games can be played with no sight, and what kind of conversation can be held when the other interlocutor is constantly in a sulky, sarcastic mood?

However, finally something begins to slowly change. Fighting resolutely against his tough resistance, Poppy has decided it's time for a new start. Realizing how her patient should feel deeply frustrated during this forced mental and physical inactivity, she prepares a program to keep him as busy as possible, dividing the day in many little steps and imposing him to follow their progression.

As soon as he is able to walk, she accompanies him in a daily tour of his little space - a bedroom and a bathroom - making him touch and remember the position of every object. She obliges him (and constantly reminds Becky) by putting everything always in the same place so that it can be easily found. Consequently, in a relatively short time, he is able to manage his simplest needs.

Naturally, there are still many little actions he can't possibly handle without his sight, even if they were so easy in his previous life. For example, he can't shave himself properly. But Poppy has a very kind way to ask him if he would like to, making him lean down in the armchair while she passes her wand gently around his face. She is so deeply pleased to hear his harsh tone softening as he relaxes during this procedure, that once she asked him if he would like to be shaved "the Muggle way," with foam and a real razor. His head snapped up in surprise and he enquired, sincerely interested, "You know how to do it?"

"Of course," she replied, laughing. "I used to do it for my father!"

So immediately after, he is given a luxurious foaming shave, and he enjoyed it so much that he involuntarily slipped into a peaceful nap. Now Poppy is greatly amused to see how forcefully he struggles with himself to dissimulate his anticipation each time he waits to be shaved.

He also likes her help when he dresses. He can perfectly manage all the ritual, but when he has finished, he appreciates her firm, kind hands straightening his collar or giving his clothes a final touch. He is evidently enjoying these little attentions, even if his manners are still sharp and sullen. But these are the only rays of sun in a perennially stormy weather.

So, today like all the other days before it, Severus sits hopelessly in his armchair and tries to think. There is nothing, nothing he can do. Without his sight, everything has become difficult, distressing, exasperating, even with the assistance he is constantly offered. A mind sharp as a razor is now confined into the dark limitations of his skull. He can't read, he can't enjoy a view, he can't manipulate potions as he isn't able to monitor them, he can't walk by his own except in his room… Even his meals are terribly exhausting if somebody is not there to help him chop the food or pour the water in his glass. And he must ask continuously, a humiliating occurrence that makes him feel vulnerable and helpless. Everyday is a struggle, and he is beginning to wonder if this frustrating existence can really be worthwhile. Until now, his pride has aided him, but how long will he be willing to resist?

And then, when he begins to successfully manage the majority of his physical needs, it comes to the awful discovery that, in a world of darkness, ears and mouth are his best friends. Once a man who used to enjoy his solitude, eager to transform a conversation into a series of snappy remarks, Severus is at present slowly but inexorably sinking into the desperate need of having somebody next to him, a mirror for his words, an echo for his thoughts. Now he realizes that, in his state, most of the occasions of feeling alive pass mainly through verbal communication, and consequently require the presence of other human beings around him; exactly the situation he has always avoided, feared, detested.

As a weird result, although he doesn't admit this need even to himself, Severus is waiting more and more impatiently for a break in his desolate meditation, craving for visitors. But many days of pure boredom have to burn his brain and challenge his stubbornness before his wish can be finally satisfied.


	5. Visits

A Matter of Will 

by Lady Memory

(simply Memory in SH and TPP)

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer: **I don't obviously own anyone of the characters in this story, even if I would like to._

_**Warning**:I suppose that, after 4 chapters, you have perceived that I'm Italian... Many thanks to my fantastic betas **Jynx67** and **Pennfana**._

_**Important**: I'm feeling deeply honored (and scared!) for the many Story Alerts I'm receiving. I like writing stories, but this is my first attempt to post one. I hope you are not going to be disappointed with the next chapters..._

_Again, all my sincere thanks to the kind people reading and rewieving. Your comments are deeply appreciated!_

**Chapter 5 –Visits**

**The girl**

It is morning and a sunny day, so Severus was told. As if he could care less! While he tries to recall the complicate preparation of an almost unknown potion to keep his mind busy, there is a hesitant knock at the door. He doesn't even raise his head, sure as he is that this is again the insufferable Miss Ingham, back with more annoying comments.

"Come in!" he exclaims in irritation, since his mental processes are positively spoiled. While the door opens, he adds angrily, relieved to have anyway a break in his solitude, "Have we decided to play another game today, Miss Ingham? This is the third time in five minutes you've bothered me with your irrelevant questions!"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Professor," says a completely unexpected voice.

He feels a pang in his heart. This voice is slurred, low and slightly anxious, yet he recognizes it immediately. He has heard that voice so many times during his last years at Hogwarts, but in those days, it was ringing like a bell, it was daring and confident, the true mark of a bold, intelligent, mischievous young woman.

"Miss… Granger?" he asks in absolute surprise.

"It's me, Professor," she says, clearly apologetic. She notices his eyebrows furrowing in the effort of "seeing" her through her words, and blames herself for having made him face his limitation again with her awkward entry. "May I come in and talk with you just a moment?"

Curiosity - that irrepressible need to find a diversion for his restless mind – and the knowledge that she, too, has been badly hurt makes him answer more gently than he would like. "You are welcome."

She slowly enters and takes a glance around, suppressing a gasp at the sight of his void, dreadful, stony eyes. Then she takes a breath, preparing to break the silence, but he is quicker.

"Well?" he asks, sardonic again. "Come to visit your dear old Professor?"

"I hope I'm not disturbing you," she begins in her excruciatingly slurred voice.

"As you can see," he emphasizes the last two words, "I've nothing to do at the moment…" His voice becomes exceedingly bitter. "And it seems highly improbable that I will have something more important to do in the near future. So, your point?"

She feels somehow encouraged by his harsh tone and says simply, "I've heard you are getting better, and I've come to thank you. Thank you for helping me and saving Ron during the battle. And, of course, for saving Harry and… all the other people in our world..."

A terrible pause follows. She swallows and goes on, trembling a little. "And… I would also like to apologise. I struck you while you were trying to protect us all. I... I hadn't understood. I'm so sorry, Professor! I had always been uncertain about you, but I couldn't believe you were a traitor, even when you… Even after that night with Headmaster Dumbledore." She stops, strangled by her own emotions, exhausted by the effort of articulating all these words with her damaged lips. She pulls herself together with a choked sob. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring that up."

"You have always had the deplorable habit of speaking too much, Miss Granger," he answers in his usual dry tone. "There is nothing you need to apologise for, I assure you. And there is nothing you need to thank me for, as well. My own person was included in the rescue, so let's say it was only a selfish action."

She perceives his bitterness and tells him more animatedly, "I also wanted to thank you on Ron's behalf. He cannot come here, so he asked me to present his best regards to you."

"This is very nice indeed of you both," he replies with a twisted smile, his impatience growing. "And this settles the matter once and for all," he adds in a definitive tone.

She feels uneasy. The conversation isn't exactly going as she had imagined. She was expecting more empathy, more compassion from a man who is suffering as much as they are. But she forces herself to go on. "How are you, Professor? May I ask if they have found something for your eyes?"

"Your impertinence has always been great, Miss Granger, but the incompetence of this so-called hospital is even greater. No, at the moment there is nothing that can be done, and I don't believe there will ever be. Cheer up, Hogwarts and the wizarding world will soon be joyous at the announcement of my retirement."

She stiffens then she says in a whisper, "I'm sorry. What are you going to do then?"

"I don't know and I don't care at the moment," he replies disdainfully. "And I don't think you should worry about this. What are _you_ going to do, instead?" He is carefully avoiding mentioning her wounds. He has never been good at comforting people and he finds it strangely intolerable the thought that she could be trying to comfort him.

"Well," she says pensively, refusing to react to his harsh tone, "I've been offered, I mean, Headmistress McGonagall offered me unlimited hospitality at Hogwarts. I think I'll accept her proposal and stay there for the next months."

"And what about your parents? Do they know what happened? How are you going to explain such a long absence?" For a moment, he seems sincerely interested.

"I can always say that I've been asked to do some special research."

"But this is irrational! Wouldn't it be better for you to stay with them?"

"Do you think I want them to see me in this state?!" she replies furiously, raising her voice. It doesn't last long because of the pain. "Do you think I could go there and tell them I became a monster while trying to save the world?"

He feels suddenly uncomfortable. "I'm sure that…"

She cuts him off impatiently. "It is lucky that you can't see me. I'm living locked in my room here at St. Mungo's!"

An unpleasant silence falls. Then, as if regretting her outburst, she says in a calmer tone, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Anyway, soon I'll have a new family. Ron and I are going to get married once his conditions stabilize."

This time he is really astonished. "Given the situation, don't you think this is an even more irrational choice?"

Her voice is ringing again now, just as it was the last times he heard it. "I don't expect you to understand. After all, you cannot have changed just because you saved the world."

He is baffled and, for a moment, he doesn't know what to say. She is already backing towards the door. When he tries to reply, she interrupts him with cold fury. "I just wanted to thank you, Professor. I hope you will feel better soon. Have a good day."

She immediately exits, leaving him fuming in useless, painful rage.

**The consultant**

It is mid afternoon when the door opens again, but this time he has been informed of the important visit he is going to receive. In a way, he feels pleased. In another way, he is worried. What is the consultant of the Minister of Magic going to tell him? And why isn't the Minister coming himself? He is anxious to know, but at the same time, he tries to keep his emotions under control. It has become difficult in this new situation of total vulnerability, but he has to do it. It's a matter of will, as always. And his will has been trained for all of his existence.

Cornelius Fudge enters eagerly and announces himself in that same pompous, falsely cordial tone he uses to handle the embarrassing situations.

"Professor Snape, my dear friend!" he exclaims joyfully, noisily putting something on the table used for meals. "I'm glad to see you have finally recovered! What a wonderful surprise! We were so concerned about your condition, so worried we could possibly loose one of our saviours… the hero we didn't know about!"

Severus tightens his lips. An embarrassed silence follows this sentimental explosion. Then Fudge leans to clasp Severus' hand in his, squeezing it a little. Cornelius' grip is weak and insincere; he knows perfectly well the awful character of the man sitting before him! But this time, if the man should say something unpleasant, he wouldn't know how to answer. He cannot offend a war hero. Even worse, he cannot reply harshly to a blind man. Now the silence makes him feel very uncomfortable as well, and Severus, perceiving this sensation, does his best to reinforce his uneasiness.

"So, my dear boy," Cornelius takes a seat and resume his talking in the desperate attempt to raise a reaction from the unfriendly man sitting in front of him, "how are you feeling today? Are the people here taking good care of you? We cannot risk disappointing our new celebrity, can we?"

Another forced laugh. Cornelius begins to find the man exasperating, and wishes that his task were finished.

"Your visit is an honour, of course" says Severus quietly, "but may I ask you why exactly have you come to see me?"

"My dear, dear boy!" yelps Fudge, delighted to have finally received an answer, and a calm one. "I hope you didn't think that the people at the Ministry, and precisely the ones who so incessantly watch over the wizarding population, could leave you here hanging in useless wait, while we all are so greatly indebted to you! It has been an uninterrupted party outside here since we received the incredible news of the victory. Unfortunately, you missed the main celebration. You know, everybody was too happy; it wasn't simply possible to wait for your recovery…"

With a conspiratorial smile that goes completely lost on his blind listener, Cornelius leans to say confidentially, "Even if I must say that it has been a very sad celebration indeed. The only one who could participate was Harry, and he was understandably pained by the absence of so many of his friends."

"I'm glad he noticed." Severus snorts in irritation, and Cornelius pauses to look at him, a perplexed look on his face. He will never understand that man! He waits for a moment, but nothing else seems to happen, so he goes on in his most cordial tone.

"But I have a surprise for you. I surely imagine you would have preferred to receive it in public, but, alas, as I told you, it was simply impossible to wait. However, here it is. Order of Merlin, first class. I am very glad to be the first one to congratulate you on this appointment!"

Severus is surprised, not for the medal, whose cold weight he can now feel in his hand, but for his own total lack of enthusiasm. His mind goes back to that cursed night in which Wormtail had decided the destiny of the whole wizarding world, and four old friends and enemies had met again. That night, he had been extorted exactly this same prize - an Order of Merlin, first class - and the terrible humiliation and frustration he had undergone has been burning his soul for a long, long time. Today, his heart has only had an accelerated beat before realizing how vain, how useless, how stupid the piece of metal is whose hard edges brush sharply against his fingers.

But Fudge is obviously interpreting his expression as a comprehensible reaction of astonishment. The consultant smiles knowingly and goes on, happy to have finally found a chink in that impenetrable armour.

"Now, the main reason for my coming here, apart from my personal concern about your well being, is basically a practical one. We want you to know that a considerable pension will be granted to each one of the persons who have fought against You-Know-Who and have particularly distinguished themselves. Of course, individuals who have suffered elevated financial losses or relevant physical damages are in a special position for either a significant reimbursement or a permanent allowance that may consent them to live serenely from now on."

"Very kind of you indeed," Severus replies coldly.

Fudge again looks at him, his cheerful smile fading in uncertainty, then he frowns and adds more harshly that he would like, "I'm glad you appreciate our efforts. It's going to cost us a little fortune, but somebody had to repay you for your commitment."

This last declaration hits Severus painfully, and he doesn't know why. He loses himself in meditation, trying to follow both Fudge's words and his own train of thoughts, but he suddenly perceives that the consultant has risen to his feet and is greeting him goodbye. Cornelius is clearly relieved to leave that gloomy room and its dark occupant. His handshake is stronger now, and his laughter is jovial as he walks out hastily to his office and his career, waving hand at the Healers and nurses looking at him in respect.

Alone again in the darkness, Severus still tries to understand what has hurt him so much. His mind wanders in turmoil when, with a sudden pang, he remembers the battle, Dumbledore's ghost and his last words of thanks. An intense, bitter, aching sensation of loss gradually washes over him, soon becoming intolerable. Slowly, he folds his arms on the table and wearily lays his head on them. Forgotten, the precious, useless golden medal slips from his fingers and lands on the floor with a sharp, acute ting.

**Interlude**

It's evening when Poppy finally finds the time to go and visit her most difficult patient. Normally she is very punctual, but today, feeling nervous and tired, she has been trying to delay her appointment as much as possible. New events are happening. Her life is going to follow a completely different path in the future. Some irrevocable changes are going to take place, and she has been thinking about them the whole day, as she knows that they are going to affect Severus' life as well.

The school will soon start again, and she has kindly been urged to resume her role there. Pleased for this welcome opportunity to return to her habitual routine, she has obviously decided to accept the offer. But this will mean leaving the hospital and her actual patients, including Severus. She already knows that her decision is probably going to bother him deeply, but how could she refuse? Hogwarts has been her home for so many years, the main part of her existence! Why should she sacrifice her aspirations to a man who most of the time doesn't even thank her for her commitment? In addition, St. Mungo's has dismissed several fully recovered patients in the last days, so the staff isn't going to need her help anymore, even if the other Mediwizards are scarcely enthusiastic at the idea of taking Severus back in their charge.

Still, being a responsible woman, Poppy is very uncomfortable about her leaving, and feeling her already heavy responsibility becoming heavier, she has spent the main part of the day thinking about her decision and planning the best way to communicate it to her patient, as she expects this to raise a fierce reaction. But surely, she can't go on all her life being his nurse, guardian, foster mother or trainer! Hence, she will have to prepare him as soon as possible for this impending future without her assistance.

Thinking in hindsight, they both knew that this moment would come, sooner or later. During all those long weeks in which she has helped him learning to survive, she has constantly reminded him that someday he would be forced to manage his life completely by himself. But protective as she has become recently and knowing his financial situation, she has also wondered how this could be possible. He has lost his previous job, he can't obviously apply for a new one and he doesn't come from a rich family. To make the picture even darker, nobody except she seems to be really concerned about his future, in spite of the important role he has played in the victory. She has therefore evaluated the opportunity of a discreet enquiry at the Ministry to present his case. To be even surer, she has already sent them an owl to ask for an appointment. Although, in the meantime, the situation seems to have unexpectedly started to develop by itself, as Cornelius Fudge was expected to visit him today. But she doesn't believe in that vain, pompous man. He has always focused only on his career, and now that things are going to be better, he will tenaciously avoid any possible complication that could spoil his plans of a renewed success.

On the other hand, if nothing should happen, maybe a private audience with the Minister himself could help. After all, Poppy Pomfrey and Rufus Scrimgeour were schoolmates in their young days, even if they cordially disliked each other right from the beginning. So, why not? She could try this final effort before considering her moral debt totally paid. However, she sincerely hopes that a convenient solution will be found in the meantime, otherwise she is afraid that she will feel obliged to remain at Severus' side. But now, how to prepare him, at least for the idea of her approaching departure?

Lost in meditation, she knocks twice to announce herself as she normally does, but this time she is unpleasantly surprised at not receiving the usual irritated reply. Immediately worried, she opens the door and enters hastily. Severus is curled on the table, placidly sleeping, head on his arms, his breathing soft and regular. Relieved, a kind smile playing on her lips, she approaches as quietly as possible, trying to decide what to do. It's dinnertime, but she hates the idea of awakening him from this peaceful slumber. However, as always, it's Severus himself to put an end to her hesitation; his reflexes have always been quick and they have become even quicker since the moment he has become blind. His head instinctively snaps up in alarm as she gets near, and she is pained to see how his eyes open wide in the effort to see something, even after so many days of uninterrupted darkness. She immediately announces herself.

"It's me, Severus. Sorry if I have disturbed you, but it's dinnertime."

She sounds slightly anxious, so he questioningly "looks" at her. His lips are strangely trembling, but his tone is calm when he replies. "No need of apologies, Poppy. I was only… dreaming."

His voice seems to break unexpectedly and he clenches his fists, resisting to some unknown emotion. Feeling surprisingly moved, Poppy lowers her head in embarrassment - sometimes she forgets he cannot see – and, doing so, she notices the golden medal on the floor.

"An Order of Merlin, first class!" she gasps in astonishment while she bends to collect the heavy decoration. She places it gently in his hands, suddenly radiant. "Oh, Severus," she exclaims, "this is fantastic! We will have to order something special for your dinner tonight! It was Cornelius who brought it to you, wasn't it? What did he say?"

"I'm afraid I don't remember too well," he says, indifferent at her joy, toying distractedly with his award. Poppy looks at him, a perplexed frown on her wise, old face. How remarkably peculiar is this attitude! The Severus she used to know had suffered so much from the loss of this same decoration years ago that he had revengefully succeeded in making his hated colleague Professor Lupin resign his job and leave Hogwarts in dishonour. The memory still disturbs her very much, as she has always liked the nice, kind and unfortunate Remus Lupin, right from the days when he was a child and she used to help him through the pain of his transformation. In the grim silence that follows, each one of them absorbed in their thoughts, Poppy suddenly notices a sealed roll of parchment on the table. Surprised, she picks it up and turns to look at him again.

"And what about this parchment? Did he read it to you? It's still sealed," she inquires, wondering if this could be the reason of his sadness. But this time he is genuinely amazed.

"A parchment?" he exclaims, then suddenly remembers the rustling sound of something being placed on the table while Cornelius greeted him. Now he is feeling excited again, really impatient, and as a result, he becomes rude. "Well, what the hell are you waiting for? You know I can't read it!"

Suppressing a harsh reply, Poppy opens the roll with slightly trembling hands. This man and his irritating reactions have always had the power to exasperate her, and today she is already feeling nervous! Thankfully, as she quickly glances over the text, a big smile raises on her face. The news is wonderful! She lets her happiness transpire through her words. "This is a letter from the Cabinet of the Ministry's Assistants, declaring that you have been assigned a pension for war merits. Attached there is also a note establishing the various possibilities and amounts you can request and… Oh, Severus, Cornelius personally signed two of them, and they are the biggest! You have been listed for 'distinguished actions' and for 'relevant physical damages'. If you add them together, this should give you a monthly income of…" and she tells him a figure he would have never dreamt to hear.

He lights up in excitement. At least something good has finally arrived! Maybe the obscure times – he dares to remember Dumbledore's words - have finally ended. He is so caught up in his calculations then he almost doesn't notice Poppy embracing him in thrilled joy. With a sum like that, he can afford to purchase a new house, to have house elves to serve him, to buy new clothes and furniture and rare food, even to travel… in a word, to enjoy life like he has never done before! In a different way, perhaps, but still a marvellous perspective. And who knows, maybe in another country he could find the cure his compatriots haven't. His brain is working full force now and he doesn't react with his usual harshness at Poppy's joyful comments. She is so delighted! It's the answer to all her worries; a relief for her, a new life for him, freedom for both! The evening couldn't have ended in a better way!

Holding forcefully the medal in his hand, Severus now waits for his special dinner, mind full of innumerable options. For the first time after his awakening, he feels confident, powerful and safe again. But this new happiness is soon added a drop of bitterness. Practical as always, Poppy immediately takes this joyful opportunity to prepare him and announce - very, very carefully, of course - the news of her future.

He shouldn't have been affected by this revelation, at least not now that there is a new life waiting for him. Instead, surprisingly, he feels incredibly outraged. He had begun to consider Poppy and Miss Ingham as two annoying but useful appendices in his life. Now he realizes that he will have to start everything again, teaching some unknown house elf how to manage his needs and facing every occurrence by himself. This unpleasant perspective makes him feel oddly disappointed, and as a result, his mood begins to oscillate from a deep joy to a resentful nastiness, while his mind swings unsteadily in emotion.

**The boy**

It's late evening when Madam Pomfrey is called out of the room. The dinner is excellent, but not as enjoyable as it could have been, given her patient's most unpleasant mood. Challenged by his irritating manners, her temper too has begun to rise alarmingly. She is a kind, patient, tolerant woman, but too much is too much, and today she is finding him exasperating. Therefore, she is very happy to have an excuse to leave him alone.

To great surprise and joy, Harry Potter is there waiting for her outside of the door. She embraces him tenderly. How the boy has changed in these last weeks! His voice has become grave, definitely adult, and his eyes are always serious. That mischievous, joyful smile that sometimes lightened his traits when he was at Hogwarts has completely disappeared after the last severe proofs he has undergone, and he now looks like an austere, dignified young man.

Grateful for her warm welcome, Harry affectionately kisses Poppy on the cheek then says quietly, "I just got in and saw Ron and Hermione. I wanted to see Remus as well, but he is already asleep. However, I was told that he is feeling better… At least, he seems to be. Anyway, when I said I wanted to see you, too, Hermione mentioned that Professor Snape is out of his coma and that he is well… but he won't be able to see anymore! Is it true? Is there really nothing that can be done to help him regain his sight?"

Poppy is looking in sad amazement at the boy. So wounded, yet so generous! The man whose conditions he is so anxiously enquiring about has done his best to ruin Harry's life in school, yet the boy is sincerely concerned about him. With a sigh, she explains the situation in short but precise words, and Harry nods thoughtfully in understanding. Then, with sudden hesitation, so strange on the lips of the Dark Lord's conqueror, he asks timidly, "I know that is late, but I would really like… I mean, can I see him now?"

Poppy manages a tired smile. "You know him, Harry. He is still a difficult man. He doesn't like to be surprised. I will have to ask. If you don't mind waiting here…"

Quietly, she comes back in the room, but Severus has stiffened in his chair. He has overheard the entire conversation perfectly, his anger increasing at the description of his physical problems. Furious in his frustration, he declares, anticipating her question, "So, the great Harry Potter has finally deigned to come. Well, I have some interesting news for him! I'm not going to receive anybody tonight. Let him wait as much as I did. Perhaps this will teach him something."

Poppy tightens her lips and shakes her head in disbelief. Then, not caring to hide her disappointment, she asks firmly, "Are you sure? The boy has just arrived from a long trip and came here to see you as soon as he knew you had improved. Don't you think he should deserve a better treatment?"

But he is resolute in his stubbornness. At last, somebody who is totally depending on his decisions, even better, who has to bow to them! Somebody that he can make suffer with his resentful words! Finally, Harry Potter has come to pay for his countless faults, and this is going to be a memorable occasion, a cruel satisfaction that his former professor will treasure in his mind as a grim consolation for the sad years to come.

"Severus!" Positively angry, Poppy interrupts his thoughts, and he reacts like the child he sometimes becomes. That is, ceding her victory… but not completely.

"No! I'm too tired now! Tell him to come tomorrow morning, if he really wants to see me!" he finally utters then crosses his arms and turns his head, obstinately refusing to listen any longer.

With a deep sigh, Poppy goes out. Harry already knows and smiles quietly while she reports the message.

"Always the same nasty bastard!" he remarks, and unexpectedly amused, he declares, "Well, if he keeps going like this, there is still a hope!" Looking at her sad, tired face, he adds in a soft, comforting tone, "I'll be here again tomorrow, don't worry. Have a good night and thank you so much, Madam Pomfrey, for everything you did for us… and for him."

Speechless, Poppy stares at him incredulously. It has been a hard day and she is still very upset, so his kind, sympathetic reply makes her feel suddenly vulnerable. Tears begin to prickle at the corners of her eyes while she fumbles uselessly for words. But with his new amazing capacity of understanding, the boy has already kissed her again and left silently in the darkness of the night.


	6. More visits

**A Matter of Will**

by Lady Memory

(simply Memory in SH and TPP)

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer: **I don't obviously own anyone of the characters in this story, even if I would like to._

_Many thanks to my wonderful beta and dear friend **Jynx67**._

_**Important**: All my sincere thanks to those reading and rewieving my story. Your comments are deeply appreciated._

_And now a little quiz: has anybody been so able as to discover the one and only sentence that is always repeating in each of the chapters? It's not so difficult..._

_**UPDATED to reflect the thoughts that Duj kindly expressed about Severus's hygiene in her review and that I acknowledge.**_

**Chapter 6 - More visits**

Morning comes after an interminable night, as Severus has had even more problems than usual in finding rest. His mind has been in constant turmoil. Alone in the darkness, he has seen the visit he is expecting from different angles, crafting his possible answers, polishing them carefully and trying to make them as sharp and disdainful as possible to hurt the boy in the most painful way. Bizarrely, he realises that he is effectively looking forward to seeing Harry, and this is the real reason why he refused to receive him the night before. Abandoned as he feels, having perceived the concern in the boy's voice, Severus is already savouring the extremely enjoyable possibility of making the only one who has survived safe and sound the Dark Lord's threat suffer. But, as always, there is also an unpleasant counterpart in this upcoming pleasure. It is hidden in the fact that Severus is weaker than he would like to admit and wounded in a permanent way so that, whatever he can do or say, he will always be the at the losing end of the exchange…

It is still very early in the morning when a double knock is heard at the door. He abruptly awakens from his meditation to answer that familiar sound. Recognizing Poppy's soft steps, he relaxes, realising she is alone.

"Good morning," she says in her efficient tone, and he can immediately perceive that she is still irritated with him. "So, feeling better today?"

He mumbles an unintelligible answer, and Poppy, after another glance at his tense, exhausted face, doesn't insist too much. On the contrary, she is very disappointed that he did not dress for the night and slept in his clothes. This is happening more and more frequently in the last days, because he refuses to use his bed, instinctively preferring the armchair. This can only mean that his anguishes have returned even more vivid, in spite of the good news, and, as a consequence, he is totally neglecting his hygiene. Now, there is nothing that she can do about his worries, except offering a friendly understanding. But about that irritating lack of care, well, she is not going to tolerate it. So he is sent to take a shower and, strangely, he obeys without making any objection. Soon he is back in clean, fresh clothes, and she is ready to resume her visit and discuss the agenda of the morning.

Today he should have assisted Miss Ingham in her studies. The girl has paled in anguish when Poppy has announced that Severus could have used his time more profitably by helping her to improve her knowledge of potions and herbal remedies. As expected, the newly nominated professor has reacted with his usual sarcasm, but only to discover in few days that the hours spent in teaching have become rather interesting for them both, even if passed in a continuous skirmish. She had surprisingly improved a lot in spite of his acerbic remarks, and this has given him a new reason to feel alive. However, today's session is not going to take place: Severus is waiting for Harry, and Poppy doesn't want to offer him any excuse to avoid this visit again. The girl is supposed to be there in few minutes anyway, as she and Poppy discretely alternate themselves during the day to keep an eye on him constantly. After all, he is blind, and something could always unpredictably happen.

But this morning, he is uncharacteristically quiet. Unaware he is the subject of Poppy's wondering gaze, he sits again in his beloved armchair, fastening his jacket in evident distraction and consequently mistaking the progression of its many buttons.

Impatiently, Poppy moves his hands away to restart the work, and while she is unbuttoning him to correct the sequence, there is another light knock at the door. Concentrated on the task, fretting to conclude it, Poppy doesn't even care to answer to what she supposes to be Becky's arrival. So when the door opens slowly, she is abruptly startled at the sound of an unexpected baritone voice asking politely, "Good morning. I'm not interrupting anything, I hope?"

**The Minister**

Rufus Scrimgeour is standing under the door's frame, his fiery yellow eyes opening in mild amusement and exaggerated surprise. Disconcerted, Poppy turns to look at him. "Rufus!" she exclaims, and her eyes go uncertainly from Severus' partially unbuttoned jacket to Scrimgeour's ironic smile, then widen in understanding. Her rosy cheeks, already coloured by concentration, blush even more in a radiant red, while she uncharacteristically stammers in confusion. "I was… I was only helping Professor Snape…" Then, rejecting his teasing, she fiercely raises her head and crosses her arms with an indignant glare, daring him to mock her further.

"I see," he replies cordially, amused at her embarrassment. "Then go on, please." And without any other explanation, he comes in, walking with his limping yet vigorous gait. Surprisingly, a discomfited Cornelius Fudge is resignedly coming after him, brows furrowed in a regretful expression, as hesitant as Scrimgeour is determined. In fact, feeling more and more uncomfortable under Poppy's gaze, he stops after just a few paces and, licking his lips, he greets them uncertainly. "Oh, er, good morning, Madam Pomfrey… Professor Snape…"

Severus is instantly alarmed. Unable to see his visitors, but perceiving Poppy's uneasiness, he has followed the previous verbal exchange in growing tension. Why has the Minister, who never showed any sympathy for him in his previous visits at Hogwarts, decided to come here today? Why has Cornelius returned a second time? And why is he speaking with such a desolate tone? Frustrated, once more acutely regretting the loss of the keenest of his senses, he answers quietly, "You are welcome. Minister Scrimgeour, I presume, and Mr. Fudge is with him?"

"Your ears serve you excellently," says Rufus with cold courtesy.

"Thank you. I already had the pleasure to meet with Mr. Fudge yesterday, so I'm very glad to meet with the Minister today." He hesitates nearly imperceptibly before continuing silkily. "And to what is such a pleasant visit due?" Severus says with a hint of irony. "It must be something important, I dare say, to bring you here at this early hour of the morning."

"It is, in fact," replies Scrimgeour in an even colder tone.

"And after so many days of total silence. I am honoured, indeed," Severus adds softly, sarcasm now clearly showing in his words.

"The Council has had many important matters to discuss, Snape. I suppose you won't be so presumptuous as to think that our concerns had to focus primarily on your person." There is a menacing edge in Scrimgeour's voice now, but Severus holds his ground. A man who has faced the Dark Lord himself cannot be upset by two common wizards, even if one of them has been a more than valiant Auror.

Trying to calm the already rising tempers, Poppy interposes herself quickly. "I'm sure that Rufus and Cornelius have more reserved information to share, Severus. I believe it would be better if I'd leave you now."

"No, Poppy, please." Scrimgeour instantly stops her and Cornelius nods wearily, smiling in compunction. "Please stay. I'd prefer to have a witness to our conversation, as Professor Snape can't obviously have complete control of the situation."

Severus stiffens with rage at being reminded of his weakness, and his lips tighten forcefully. Immediately noticing, Scrimgeour asks in low tone, directly to Poppy, "How are his eyes? Hasn't anything been found to counteract the Dark Magic?"

"We are still trying. The damage seems irreparable, I admit, but many of our most valiant Healers and Potions Masters are working hard to find a counterspell," Poppy replies slowly, while Severus listens intently, trying to give a sense to the flow of emotions whirling around him. Those men are both powerful, although in a different way, but the one before him is particularly insidious in his brisk, straightforward manners.

"I see." Scrimgeour comments pensively. "Well, I wish them all the luck they surely need. After all, we have many other people who have been seriously wounded in the battle and who are anxiously waiting for a remedy." The Minister intentionally pauses, a silence long enough to let Severus understand that he is more concerned about the other patients than about the man sitting before him. Then Scrimgeour resumes his speech. "Now, Professor Snape, let's go to the point. The reason for my visit at this early hour of the morning, as you have been so eager to notice, is due to the necessity of remedying a mistake that one of our officers seems to have involuntarily committed."

Severus feels his heart sink while Cornelius moans, lowering his head in shame, "I'm very, very sorry, Professor Snape."

Scrimgeour goes on, a disapproving glance at the humiliated man near him, while his voice becomes hard. "So, Professor Snape…" He theatrically stops again, as to emphasize even more the concept. "I believe you no longer belong to the Hogwarts' Board of Professors, correct? Then you will excuse me if I'm not going to address you with a title that is no more pertinent to your actual state." He smiles, darkly amused to see Severus' hands clenching into fists.

"So, 'Mr.' Snape, as I was saying, it seems that, in the understandable joy to be the first one to communicate you the many opportunities you could have enjoyed, Mr. Fudge has extremely accelerated the conclusion of our procedures, while deplorably forgetting to ask for official approval… which, unfortunately, cannot be given. Therefore, I took the trouble to come here and personally explain to you the situation, to avoid any other possible misunderstanding."

"I suppose I should thank you for this kind attention," replies Severus through gritted teeth.

"A man whose past is as questionable as yours should be very careful in what he says!" Scrimgeour warns him, coldly again.

"Rufus!" exclaims Poppy angrily. "Mind what _you_ are saying! Isn't it perhaps your turn to forget something? Don't you remember what Harry told us? Without Severus' help, he wouldn't have been able to defeat the One Who Should Not Be Named!"

"Oh, but that's precisely the point!" the Minister is quick to reply with a twisted smile. "You see, Poppy, we don't have any effective evidence that… _Severus_" - he bows ironically to her - "was truly helping Harry."

"You… you don't?" she gasps in amazement.

"Exactly!" Scrimgeour declares triumphantly, a cruel spark glowing in his eyes. "We only have Harry's word, plus a lot of useless babble from Remus Lupin and Hermione Granger, who were found unconscious after the battle and who openly admitted to being so before its end. Also, if you remember, Miss Granger did even declare that she cast a spell against Snape, after he had tried to blast her, Potter and Weasley by order of the Dark Lord."

"Now, just imagine!" Again he turns to the angry man sitting in front of him, raising his voice to interrupt Severus' furious reaction. "What if, during the battle, our cunning Professor Snape had perfectly understood that the Dark Lord was doomed and had consequently employed his remarkable knowledge of Dark Magic to Confound Harry and betray his previous Master? Wouldn't have this been a great opportunity to return as a saviour in our world, thus granting himself a permanent outstanding position in our society? After all, he has always been playing a double role. Who could have possibly been sure on which side he really was? Only Albus Dumbledore, perhaps, but the great man never deigned to let us know his thoughts. Now, Remus Lupin and Minerva McGonagall told us that there should have been a signed declaration in Dumbledore's desk to prove the truth behind these many obscure actions. But most unfortunately, it has never been found! Bad luck, eh, _Professor_ Snape?" Rufus again curls his lips in a vindictive smile.

"NO! This can't be!" exclaims Severus in desperation. "Albus always said that he had planned everything. He wouldn't have lied to me!" He pauses a moment, his rage building. "You destroyed it, Scrimgeour! There isn't any other possible explanation!"

"Again, Mr. Snape, I would warmly advise you to carefully weigh your words before saying something you could regret." Rufus' voice is unmistakably menacing now. "Don't forget that you are still expected to go to trial for the murder of Albus Dumbledore. Nobody ever cleared you of this charge, and nobody probably will, as the only one who could do this is, incredibly, the victim himself. Perhaps you, too, will admit that this is going to be a tough dilemma to solve?"

Scrimgeour crosses his arms as he proposes this terrible question. Poppy is aghast. Cornelius bites his lips and uselessly tries to say something, then, embarrassed, he casts an imploring glance at the presents.

Severus suddenly feels immensely tired and drops his head in resignation. No, the obscure days were not the ones of his painfully discovered blindness! The really dark, gloomy, obscure days are still to come. Dumbledore's plan has unbelievably failed, and his miserable executor is being offered to injustice. Is this the end of all his hopes? Severus doesn't know. However, he understands that it is vain to resist. Once he thought that surviving was only a matter of will, but today, his will has somehow decided to refuse its help.

Looking at his crushed adversary, Scrimgeour goes on mercilessly. "I've therefore decided that Mr. Fudge here has been too quick in offering you a prize, and such a significant one. A probable murderer and possible traitor cannot have a reward. This is out of the question! So, you surely understand that the Wizengamot will have to gather and come to a decision about your case. Also, I don't think that we can use Veritaserum on you. I mean, even if you'd offer to take it, I wouldn't accept such proof. Again, we will have to discuss, to hear witnesses… and be sure to not commit any mistakes in a situation as difficult as this, we will need time. A great deal of time." He pauses dramatically. "Weeks? Months? Years? Who knows? Justice has to go through its course. But in the meantime, you won't be allowed to leave this country, nor use your magical skills. And, of course, your wand will be constantly kept under our control."

Severus is struggling to speak now. "How… How am I supposed to live, then?" he asks in a rough voice betraying his inner desperation. "And what could I do without my magic? In your great mercy, how do you think I can survive under these conditions?"

Instinctively, Poppy puts a hand on his shoulder, but he doesn't react, and Rufus has a knowing smile at this sight. "Then perhaps Mr. Snape would like to share some private words with me, now that he understands his situation? This is the best and the only offer I can make him at the moment."

Severus doesn't answer, but Poppy and Cornelius, after a quick look of mutual understanding, silently walk outside of the room. As soon as the door closes after them, Rufus advances and leans to stare directly into Severus' stony eyes. What he sees must be a reassuring sight, because he straightens himself with a satisfied sigh.

Then he says quietly, "You can't escape, Snape. Do you remember? I offered you a solution when Dumbledore was still alive. We were all fighting the same enemy; we could have worked together. But you were so obstinate, so absurdly devoted to the old man! Like Harry. Do you know how many times the boy has come to talk in your defence? We can't deny Potter's role in our salvation, but frankly, his existence is becoming a heavy burden for our world. We don't need heroes anymore now, we just need order, law and tranquillity. There is a time to fight and a time to forget and rebuild. Harry and you are two destabilizing elements, Snape. I don't know if we will ever determine your crimes, and I sincerely don't care. And anyway, our people obviously prefer to think of you as a hero now. Unfortunately, I don't have any power over Potter... but you, you will have to disappear if you want to survive."

Severus has covered his face with his hands, trying to hide his emotions from this merciless interlocutor. Moving quietly like the lion he resembles, Scrimgeour slowly gets near the armchair, considering its shattered occupant with a dark pleasure. Then, bending to grab the armrests with his strong fingers, he softly declares, "And about Dumbledore's murder, Narcissa Malfoy has explained to us that you were forced to take the Unbreakable Vow to protect her son. But as you can easily imagine, her declaration isn't be a reliable one, given her problematic past. Again, _Severus_, you should have chosen better your friends… and allies."

Severus takes a deep breath then he whispers huskily, his head still lowered in despair, "Then why don't you just send me to Azkaban?"

"Because there would be many outcries and objections!" Rufus replies brusquely, straightening himself and beginning to pace nervously. "Harry is constantly proclaiming his absolute trust in you and, you understand, we can't deny him publicly. But, after all, what could you do, unarmed, helpless… blind?"

Once more Rufus has a twisted smile. "You know, Snape, you should be grateful for your imperfection. Without your blindness, you would have been doomed. Instead, thanks to this blessed occurrence, we can always use you for the glory of the cause and pretend that, as in every self-respecting tale, Good has triumphed over Evil, and even the worst ones deserve an opportunity." He pauses again. Then, with a strange satisfaction in his voice, the Minister ironically adds, "Although I know perfectly well that you are no traitor."

Reacting in shock, Severus jerks his head up, opening his useless eyes in a painful, mute question.

Scrimgeour has a dark chuckle. "No, _Professor_ Snape, we haven't found Dumbledore's document, but I don't need a signed parchment to understand a man."

Immediately, the Minister hardens his tone. "We will need a quick arrangement for you, a proper accommodation in an isolated place far away from our community. A solution that mustn't cost too much money, because you don't deserve it. I believe you will agree to accept my proposal, whatever it implies. As I already said, this is the only one available at the moment."

He waits until Severus buries his face in his hands again, draws a shaky breath, then, defeated, wearily nods his assent. Smiling sardonically, Rufus strides to open the door. While Poppy and Cornelius hesitantly enter the room, he announces to them in a quietly triumphant tone, "I'm glad to tell you that we have reached a reasonable agreement. I'll send more news for him in the next days. Now, if you'll excuse us, Poppy… we have too many things going on these days."

Then, in cold politeness, he adds, "Have a good day, Professor Snape. Don't worry anymore. You are in good hands, now."

Again he bows to Poppy, and he is already leaving when he suddenly stops to say ironically, "Oh, I forgot… I've been told you have already been given the Order of Merlin, and without a proper ceremony! What a shame! Cornelius has been really insensitive… and too hurried, as always. Anyway, I don't see a reason to deny you at least this little satisfaction, especially now. You can keep it, _Professor_, it will be a nice paperweight in your new house." He leads the mortified Fudge out into the corridor, lowering his voice to add contemptuously. "A useless award for a useless life."

Poppy waits until the two wizards have left the ward before looking at Severus again. He hasn't moved from his position. His head is still lowered in humiliation, his hands are still covering his face and a light shiver runs intermittently across his body. It's a very delicate moment, so tense in its fragility that it could be broken with just a word. She says the only thing that comes to her lips. "Severus."

Sorrow and gentleness are clearly showing in her voice, but he doesn't answer. "Severus," she repeats and looks at him hopefully. Again, no answer. Saddened, she decides to go on. "I want to let you know that I'm still on your side. I don't care what Rufus said. So, if you should need me to be here, well, I... I'll stay."

It's a terrible promise she is making, and she understands it immediately. Her mind is violently rebelling against this double injustice. He deserved so much a new, serene life… She wanted so desperately to leave the hospital and go back to where she belongs… Everything was working so perfectly just last night! But now how can she deny her help in such a catastrophic moment?

She looks at his silent shape, curled in impotence. As always, he doesn't want to be pitied. Compassion is making him suffer even more. She would like to help him, but she knows that she can't. Therefore, with a sigh, she adds softly, "I'll be around. Just call me if you should need… something."

She retreats with a last glance, trying to decide if it is safe to leave him alone in his anguish. Then, her emotions overwhelm her, and with a sudden decision, she silently casts a spell.

Feeling the touch of the magic on his skin, Severus raises his head in apprehension. But the sweet enchantment has already broken his defences, and after a few seconds of vain struggle, his eyes slowly close while his body relaxes in oblivion. With a sad smile of approval, Poppy exits quietly, leaving the room and his unconscious occupant in peaceful silence.


	7. And even more visits

**A Matter of Will**

by Lady Memory

(simply Memory in SH and TPP)

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer: **I don't obviously own anyone of the characters in this story, even if I would like to._

_Many thanks to my new wonderful beta **Misundersnape**! She arrived just at the right moment!_

_**Important**: All my sincere thanks to those reading and rewieving my story. Your comments are deeply appreciated. _

_**MESSAGE**: This is the last chapter I can post before book 7, who will be out tomorrow for the joy of you lucky English/American people. In Italy, we will have to wait probably until Xmas to read it. Of course, my story, like the majority of our fan stories, will tragically and pathetically become AU immediately after... In a way, I'm sorry that we cannot play any longer with our fantasies as we have done till now, crafting so many different futures for our heroes. I will anyway continue to post my useless ideas until there is somebody wanting to read them. Sorry for my terrible English, my betas don't revise my messages (so you have an idea of the work they need to do!)._

**Chapter 7 - And even more visits**

**The boy again**

Severus was still sleeping with the aid of themagically induced slumber when a light, uncertain knock at the door disturbed the quiet to announce another visitor. However, in contrast to the two previous visitors, the current one is very worried, and his agitation increases even more when only silence answers to his inquiry. Hesitant yet impatient, the newly arrived turns the doorknob to take a quick glance inside the room.

Harry Potter is strangely nervous. Well, perhaps 'strangely' is not the correct adverb. After all, he has always felt this same way in the presence of Snape. But this time, an absurd hope has nestled into the boy's chest, the dream of a final, total reconciliation with his former Professor: the man whose hate has been haunting practically every one of Harry's days at Hogwarts, but also the man who has so unexpectedly saved his life, thus allowing him to destroy their common dreadful enemy.

Timidly, Harry enters the room, looking around in curiosity. Many times, in his past days at school, he has jokingly wondered with his friends what Snape's room could have looked like, and which kind of sinister objects their dark Professor could have carefully hidden inside it. Here, everything is meticulously ordered, every little angle looks neat and scintillating under the glorious light of a radiant sun shining through the glass of the window. But the man living in this well-organized order will no longer be able to enjoy this cheering sight. With a concerned frown on his face, Harry finally stops to consider the relaxed shape of Severus Snape, so defenceless, so unexpectedly vulnerable in his sleep. How could this man terrorize him so much? Lost in meditation, Harry sits in front of his old nemesis and lets his thoughts flow unreservedly. Now that so many things have happened, and the boy has fully grown, he desires only peace and understanding. There is a girl waiting for him somewhere in the English countryside. A girl who has promised to wait as long as he needs. A girl whose eyes were twinkling with tears, making this promise. He has to finally close his accounts to come back and begin a new life with her.

The enchantment is slowly losing its force, as the man caught in its power is suffering too much to allow its gentle effects to last for too long. Unexpectedly, before Harry can retreat, a light spasm shakes Severus' body. With a moan, he lifts his head and, blinking in the sad resemblance of an awakening, he rubs his face and his eyes with his hands. But, doing so, he perceives a new presence near him. Immediately he stops and asks with a rough voice, alarmed and angry at the same time, "Who is here? Who are you?"

Harry is in a difficult position now, but there is nothing that can be done. Therefore, he replies as calmly as possible, trying to infuse the same calm into his agitated interlocutor, "It's me, Professor. Harry Potter." Then, in a rush, seeing anger hardening Snape's already harsh features, "I'm sorry if I disturbed you, but you didn't answer my knock, so I was afraid you may not feel… well."

The boy trails off, looking in consternation at those stony, expressionless pupils staring at him without seeing him; how they are horribly different from the sharp, unforgiving ones that used to bore implacably into his eyes at Hogwarts! Now the situation has reversed, and he perceives Snape's pain and uneasiness at being so unmercifully exposed in his absolute helplessness.

Lost in agitation, Severus takes a deep breath, feeling a wave of emotions run into his body as he reorganizes his memories. '_Rufus has forced him to accept a shameful agreement. All his hopes have vanished in a morning. Poppy has subdued him with a spell. He has been sleeping for… how long? And now Harry Potter is here!'_

This isn't the way he had imagined this encounter nor the way he had planned it, especially after the terrifying news he has just received and that still needed to be processed in his mind. Therefore, it's only with a terrible effort that he regains his composure and says with cold sarcasm, "How gracious of you, Potter! How kind and considerate to worry for my health, after so many years of total indifference, or even better, of mutual detestation. Should I humbly bow in gratitude for such thoughtfulness or will my respectful words of thanks suffice?"

Harry sighs inwardly. No, the man hasn't changed a bit! And perhaps he was a fool to hope! This is going to be a tough confrontation, and the old hostility stirs violently in his chest at these disdainful words. But he tries to keep this surging feeling at bay.

"Please, Professor, let me explain," he says, more calmly than he feels.

"Oh, but please do as you like, Potter! You don't need my permission any longer." Embittered, Severus is more than eager to release the full sting of his venom. "I suppose you can do whatever you want now. After all, who am I to dissent? Just an invalid, with no home and no rights. So, go on, delight me with the sound of your voice, since I can't enjoy the sight of your face".

_Anger. Hate. Resentment. Frustration. Bitterness. _

Harry can perceive all these feelings buzzing like a swarm of bees inside the man who sits in front of him, nervously clenching his hands in his lap. The boy's magical abilities have greatly improved after the last terrible trial he has survived. Soon he has discovered to possess new, unexpected capacities that he is otherwise keeping concealed, as he hasn't been able till now to control them as he would like. Yet he understands that they must be very powerful, so he would be glad that somebody could teach him how to use them. Perhaps Snape could help him in this task? However, this is only a quick consideration, because, at the moment, it's his former Professor who is the one who absolutely needs to be helped! So the boy concentrates in silence, going deeper and deeper in his quest.

_Pain. Terrible pain. Anguish. _

"Well, Potter? Lost in contemplation?" The once silky voice is even excessively rough in its desire to be offensive. But finally Harry finds something different, something more ardent, a lower note vibrating in accord with those intense passions and even generating them.

_Sorrow. Loneliness. Desperation… _

The boy smiles sadly. There is still a soul inside this man, and all these disordered emotions are there to prove it.

"I was hoping that you could finally listen to me, Professor, at least for this one time," he begins quietly. "Because today I have come to thank you and-"

But he is brusquely cut off again by the sardonic voice saying contemptuously, "And to apologise for your previous suspicions and, consequently, actions. I know it, Potter. As always, you lack of originality. Miss Granger has already honoured me by coming here and expressing these same feelings in her typical garrulous way. But, at least, she has been timely."

Bitterly, now. "I'm not interested in your feelings, Potter. I wasn't before, I am even less now. Anyway, I'll accept your apologies and acknowledge your thanks. Will this be enough for you, or did you come here to keep a conference? Please spare me the many useless expressions of regret you surely have prepared!"

Harry is becoming more and more nervous under this accusation. Is he wasting his time? Still quietly, but more forcefully, he insists, "I thought that what happened in the dungeons could have changed your opinions."

"What happened there unfortunately means nothing. It was only the predictable end of a predictable story." In his frustration and misery, Severus is getting unreasonably resentful. "You are too late, Potter, anyway. There is nothing you can say now. And there is nothing you can do either, as you already did too much. You saved the world. I… I paid for my debts."

"And are you still paying, Professor?" Harry asks slowly, staring at him intently.

Severus reacts as if he had been hit. "Did you come here to state the obvious or simply to gloat? Or perhaps you needed the proof to reassure you? Are you enjoying yourself?"

This time it is the boy who sounds offended. "Why do you have to always be so harsh? We have fought together. You saved my life! Doesn't this count for you?"

"You are right, Potter. I saved _your_ life. But _my_ life is meaningless now, and perhaps it would have been better for me to die in the dungeons."

"Professor Dumbledore didn't think that," replies Harry firmly.

"Professor Dumbledore had his reasons, which were surely different from mine."

"Professor Dumbledore trusted you always… even the same night of his death."

Oh! How much this simple remark hurts the man who is now painfully flooded by memories!

"Professor Dumbledore… He couldn't… He didn't…" Words fail him, and Severus clenches his fists, struggling against his desperation.

'_Albus, why did you betray me? Why didn't fate reserve me a glorious end in the most terrible hour of our world?'_

Too many emotions fighting inside, too great a despair, too immense a disappointment! He definitely loses control and shouts, "How dare you speak! You are only an arrogant brat who knows nothing except his great presumption! Who gives you the right to come here and talk to me like this?"

Harry unconsciously lets a glimpse of his still indefinite power transpire. He raises his voice in a tone of command while he says, calmly but incisively, "I know you have always hated me. I too have too much to forget and forgive about you, but I've decided that I only want to remember that you saved my life and the life of the people I love. So, in the name of Albus Dumbledore, please accept my words. We will never be friends, but at least we could respect each other."

"Respect!? I don't need your respect! I don't need anything from you! You've definitely poisoned my existence since the very first day I met you!" Severus' voice is rising uncontrollably.

"And what about you? You betrayed my parents! You stole an entire life from me!" Harry's good resolutions have positively vanished, and he too is now shouting in anger.

"I didn't betray _your_ parents. I didn't know who was involved in the prophecy! Somebody else did the dirty job, and your parents even forgave him in the dungeons, don't you remember? But, in any case, I'm the one paying for this, Potter! Wasn't this thought anguishing you, just a few minutes ago? Well, be happy, because indeed you were correct! I'm still paying! My life for your life! Or better, for your early years, because you have always had a chance, while I never had any. You are the one who conquered the Dark Lord. You are the one who'll get honour and glory! Your name will be forever remembered in admiration while I'll have to spend the rest of my life in darkness and commiseration. Is that enough revenge for you, Potter? Or is there something else you would like to take from me? Perhaps this too?"

Severus' hand has just found the golden Order of Merlin on the table, tightening around it in uncontrollable rage. With a sudden movement, he blindly throws the heavy medal toward the boy, where it instead collided resoundingly with the wall. His lips tremble in wild emotion as he remembers Rufus' merciless words, "_A useless award for a useless life_".

Harry has avoided the throw with great ease. He is young and his reflexes sharp; furthermore, his Professor could obviously only suppose his position. But now the boy's face has definitely darkened, closing in a resentful anger, while his feelings are pulsating more and more painfully inside him. The violent impulse of forcing Snape to finally admit his faults, of hurting him and taking a revenge for all the sufferings his teacher has inflicted him, is furiously warring in his mind. Suddenly, Harry raises a hand and a powerful stream begins to form under its palm, whirling in circles. Then, in cold determination, he silently directs this flow against Severus, enfolding him forcefully.

"What… what are you doing?" Snape's harsh voice breaks, while the many emotions bottled inside him fight to come to surface. Severus struggles against those bittersweet sensations so unexpectedly and powerfully invading him, summoning all his forces to oppose to them. A matter of will, it's only a matter of will, and his will has always been strong enough for the damned boy… but not today.

"Stop it!" the older wizard finally exclaims, vibrating in pain while desperately trying to resist. The violence of his reaction however doesn't restrain Harry, who unreasonably intensifies his spell, oddly encouraged by the power it seems to have over Snape.

"STOP IT!!!" Severus shouts savagely, curling in his armchair and shaking uncontrollably. "Stop it!" he repeats wearily, feeling his mind collapse in unsustainable emotion. His eyes are aching and his whole being is experiencing a terrible pressure, so, unable to resist any longer, he rises from his chair and attempts a step, only to loose his balance and practically fall in exhaustion before the boy.

Horrified, back to himself, Harry interrupts the spell and hastens to help. For a moment, as he grabs Snape's shoulders with his hands, his memory goes back to another moment, when they were both facing Voldemort together. But this reminiscence is immediately ceased by Severus' ferocious voice.

"Don't touch me!"

With an angry movement, irate for his weakness, the older wizard removes Harry's hands and painfully stretches himself up. Despite his trembling and panting, he looks as powerful and menacing as in his previous days at Hogwarts.

"What were you trying to do, Potter? Hex me?" he asks quietly. Then, in growing anger, "Did you want to exhibit your great magical talent, forgetting that I can't see anymore? Or perhaps were you just taking wicked pleasure in hurting me, now that I'm completely… helpless?!" This last word comes out in a stifled roar of suffering. His rage has unpredictably led him to admit his vulnerability, and the thought is unbearable.

The boy is ashamed. He has ruined all his chances in one move, and he feels irrationally deceived by the same power in which he so strongly believed just a few minutes ago.

"You don't understand… I was trying to help you," he stammers in confusion, hoping to sound convincing.

"How very kind of you!" It's the bitter, contemptuous reply. "You are always 'trying' to help somebody! Dumbledore, me… even your friends! And look how they are suffering now, while you are here wasting my time and babbling all this nonsense to me!"

Harry retreats, staggering in pain. Snape's words have hurt him so agonisingly! The remorse of not having been able to help his friends is the boy's greatest torture, and he suddenly feels defeated and empty. He looks at his old enemy, and the aversion and the disgust he has tried to dispel come back again in an invincible, powerful flood.

Severus sits again in his chair, breathing in difficulty because of anger and pain. The corners of his lips are curled in bitterness. All the sharp, humiliating assertions he had crafted for the boy during an illusory night of triumph have disappeared in the dark awareness of an immense weakness. Now he feels betrayed, weary and desperately alone.

The door opens again and he recognizes Poppy's footsteps walking in a rush.

"What's happening? Harry! What are you doing here? Why didn't you ask me before entering?"

Poppy is really outraged. Certain as she was that the boy would have looked for her, she hadn't worried leaving Severus alone. What a mistake! What an enormous mistake! The noises she has heard on her arrival were the ones of an argument, and a fierce one! Now her first duty is toward her patient, who is certainly looking exhausted and drained beyond measure. She announces herself, as she always does before approaching him.

"Severus, it's me. How are you feeling?" Gently, she puts a hand on his forehead, but he violently recoils from the contact and hisses in anger, "I'm well! I don't need any help. Just leave me alone!"

Poppy is offended and very angry too, even if she is blaming herself for this mistake more than the boy. She shoots an indignant glance at Harry, declaring firmly, "Next time, young man, you-"

"There won't be a next time. Never!" Severus' voice is icy, ferociously determined.

Harry is ashamed, but also resentful. Everything has been ruined, and he has been a fool to hope that such strong mutual feelings of hate and contempt could be overcome with just a conversation. He tries to apologise, understanding Poppy's indignation. "I'm sorry-"

Again, Severus cuts him off. "Go away, Potter. There is nothing you can say or do, I told you before. Go away! Live your life and never come back to haunt mine! Go away!!!"

He is shouting now, and Poppy silently nods to Harry, suggesting that he leave. Reluctantly, the boy begins to move, then he suddenly stops and resolutely declares, "I didn't mean to harm you, Professor. I was only hoping for peace… but let's never meet again, if you so wish."

A last spark of his indefinite power surrounds Poppy and Severus for a burning moment. Then the door closes after him, and a gloomy, hopeless silence follows his exit.


	8. A request, a denial

**A Matter of Will**

_by Lady Memory_

_(simply Memory in SH and TPP)_

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't obviously own anyone of the characters in this story, even if I would like to._

_Infinite thanks to my fantastic beta __**Misundersnape**__ for her patience and her many useful suggestions. _

_**Important**__: All my sincere thanks to those reading and rewieving my story. Your comments are deeply appreciated. _

_**MESSAGE**__: OK, DH is arrived and I think the majority of you has read it. I obviously haven't (I haven't found an English copy till now) but I practically know everything, having been informed by my foreign correspondents... (by the way, thanks to those of my readers that have been so kind to let me know their opinion about the book. Sorry, but I couldn't answer, work has been particularly stressful these last weeks)._

_I'm not going to say anything else except that this story has been imagined in January 2007. Therefore, it is definitely AU and it won't change. You have been advised._

_Oh, last info: to prevent possible doubts, again, this is NOT a love story._

**Chapter 8 – A request, a denial, a confession**

It's night again, a sleepless night that often seems to follow a terrible event. Severus is sitting in his armchair, while his mind incessantly retraces every single minute passed. What a difference a day has made! A handful of hours has totally changed the course of his life, making it definitely a living hell. No more hopes, no more wishes: only the perspective of a sad alternation of days to be spent in darkness and solitude. No more dreams, no more chances: only Severus Snape and his soul in a mute, hopeless conversation for the rest of his existence.

After that terrible morning, Poppy has been tense for the whole day, and he has perfectly understood her concern. Even better: in a revengeful way, he has also grimly enjoyed the tough dilemma she was undergoing. However, her anguish has been a minimal consolation. After all, unlike him, she still has a place to live and a job that she likes, both waiting for her. Soon she will be forced to abandon him. Nobody can oppose the Ministry's orders, without the risk of becoming an outlaw themselves… and, to be quite frank, why should she? Honestly, Severus has to admit that he is not an easy man. He knows how irritating his harsh character can be. And he also knows that it has been an unexpected blessing to have Poppy with him for all the days he has been in St. Mungo's. And even the girl… Yes, the girl…

Becky too has tried to help. She doesn't know exactly what has happened, but she has learned to read emotions on his face during these weeks. And the deformed medal, the damage on the wall, the way he is reacting, these are all clues that have led her to ask Madam Pomfrey. Now, Poppy has been very careful to tell her only the essentials. Professor Snape is going to be transferred to a new location, yet to be announced. Decision of the Ministry, to ensure the Professor's ongoing safety and well-being.

Nice, sugary words. Yet, Becky has understood that there is much more behind this change, and that the person directly involved is suffering unimaginably because of it. So, during the day, she has tried to let him feel her tacit solidarity. She has even dared to take his hand with the excuse of guiding him to his armchair. He has stiffened in surprise at the contact but, after a moment of hesitation, he has accepted it. Thankfully, he hasn't been able to see the compassionate look on her face. It would have probably driven him mad. Instead, a really incredible event has happened. As soon as they have reached his armchair, he has released her hand with an unmistakable "Thank you, Miss Ingham". These unusual words have moved her inexplicably, and she hasn't been able to conceal it. Her voice has trembled just a little, asking him what he would have preferred to have for dinner. She has then turned away to set the table and, consequently, she hasn't noticed the almost imperceptible, twisted little smile that for a moment, a very quick moment, has curled his lips.

Becky hasn't yet realised she is actually an open book for her old Professor. Even without his useless eyes, he can perceive very well her emotions: her naïve outlook coupled with her deep integrity. Her sincere desire to help. Her instinctive tenderness. Her characteristic impetuosity. And above all, the over simplified vision typical of her young age that life should be viewed as merely black or white, with nothing in between… All traits he thinks that he could easily manipulate, having been a teacher for so many years.

And Severus too has been struggling with his emotions, for the whole day. Harry's powerful magic has aroused feelings and thoughts that have devastated his soul and overwhelmed his mind. His body is answering with unbearable pain to these solicitations and, as a result, Severus is living in an exalted state of consciousness that makes each one of his sensations a burning, intolerably vivid flame in the darkness of his brain.

So, in the evening he finally comes to a conclusion, a very hard decision for a man who has spent all his life fighting, but never resigning to, adversities. He cannot tolerate any longer a situation in which he has no control over his future, in which he is only a puppet in the hands of those surrounding him. What happened today has definitely crushed his pride and dissolved his resistance, making his life simply impossible to live. Therefore, he must find a way to make this torture stop… for good.

Unfortunately, his condition is such that it doesn't allow him to do more than to make this decision. To act, he still needs help, and that help must arrive unaware, innocent of the consequences it brings. Now, Poppy isn't so easy to fool… but the girl, with such an unmistakable desire to be helpful, could be the right pawn to use in his next move.

So, dinnertime arrives and Professor Snape and Becky are sitting at the same table, sharing a meal that neither of them is enjoying, the man because he is already planning his deceit, the girl because of a strange emotion tightening her throat. Silence has slowly filled the room, when Severus imperiously says, in his typically peevish way, "My head is aching terribly. Surely I won't be able to sleep this night. You'd better make use of the little medical competence you possess and give me the Dulcisomnium Draught before you leave."

Surprised, as he has never asked for her help before, though, at the same time, moved by this unexpected admission of vulnerability, she replies eagerly, "Of course, Professor. I'll dose it for you."

A strange silence follows her offer, while she gets up and waves her wand, summoning the remedy. As with all the other medicines in St. Mungo's, the little bottle she is retrieving is carefully stored in a special cupboard that cannot be opened by any other than authorised Mediwizards. In a few seconds she is back at the table, and pours water in his glass, asking gently, "How many drops, Professor? Three or four?"

The moment has come, and he clenches his fists in his lap, declaring harshly, "I'll take care of this by myself, Miss Ingham. Just leave the bottle on the table."

The girl stares at him full of indecision. This is an unusual request, and Madam Pomfrey has always insisted that she not to leave any medicine unattended. So, she hesitantly replies, as she doesn't want to hurt him anymore today, "But… I think it would be better if I could count the drops for you…"

Again, he reacts angrily, the way he is supposed to do. "I expect you can trust my knowledge of potions, Miss Ingham! Did you forget I was your teacher? Perhaps my eyes don't see anymore, but let me reassure you that my hands and ears are perfectly functioning and I'm still able to count to four. Now leave the bottle on the table. I'll take it later, before going to bed."

He waits, his features hardening in rage, his heartbeat slowing in hope. Then the girl speaks, and her voice is surprisingly hard.

"No!"

"I presume you have an explanation for this childish behaviour?" he immediately reacts, his words silky in contempt, exactly the way he used to taunt her when she was at Hogwarts.

She cuts him off brusquely, "I didn't forget you were my teacher. That's exactly why I won't give you this bottle".

"A revenge for your detentions, I suppose?" Again that hateful mocking tone.

"No!" Her voice is still unusually firm. "No… but because you taught me: '_Dulcisomnium Draught. Three or four drops to allow gentle sleep, seven or eight to induce benevolent coma, ten or twelve to give merciful death.'_

Her tone is unmistakably significant and Severus knows that the first round has been lost. The girl has understood the danger and now she is alert. However, he had expected this because, as a future Healer, she would be aware of the multiple risks implicit in her profession. Even more important, Severus understands that his is an absurd request and only his reputation is preventing the girl from an immediate firm refusal… his reputation and her young age. But there are still many strategies, and he only needs to find the right motivation. Little by little, he will take her where he wants. So, his voice changes again, becoming quietly ironic.

"I'm impressed. I underestimated your memory. But perhaps I overestimated your intelligence?"

The girl is instantly wrong-footed. "What do you mean by that?" she asks uncertainly.

"Miss Ingham, I believe you are too young to trifle with me… I'm almost twice your age and infinitely more qualified than you. I would think you should not find a problem in trusting my judgement regarding my own capacities."

With the right mixture of composure, pride and confidence, he waits, a sardonic smile on his lips while his mind is storming in agitation. Instinct is warning him that he is going too far with her, even if she should be used to his attacks of stubbornness. Then, the atmosphere in the room subtly changes, as the girl sits again and stares at his unseeing pupils with burning intensity.

"If this means that I have to close my eyes while you 'accidentally' mistake your dose, I won't let you to do it, Professor," she calmly declares, and he knows that she has undeniably understood his intentions. Time for a different approach, then, and he goes on in his insufferably sarcastic mood.

"Miss Ingham, you are behaving in a deplorably emotional way this evening. I need that medicine. Will you give it to me or…"

"Or what?" she dares him, her voice rising in resentment. "Are you going to protest to Madam Pomfrey? Then why didn't you openly ask her for the draught? Perhaps because you thought that I would be easier to convince?"

"Manners, Miss Ingham! I will not tolerate such disrespect in my presence!" he roars angrily, but she incredibly replies, "Stop treating me as if I were still in school! You are asking me to betray my Mediwizard oath without even having the decency to give me at least an explanation!"

He stiffens in a disdainful silence, while, unable to conceal her worry, she finally asks him with a concerned tone, "Why? Please tell me: why? Isn't there anything I could do to help you?"

His voice is cold now, revealing his frustration. "I have already asked you… but you have just refused!"

"I am a Healer, not a murderess. My task is to cure and to give hope!" she replies indignantly.

How direct and passionate she is in her sentiments, while he is still floundering with indecision, not really knowing the best way to handle her! He has always despised these open, sincere emotions in his previous life, considering them useless, weakening and thus potentially dangerous. But finally he decides to reveal the truth.

"Look at me, Miss Ingham, you who still have eyes to do so! See what I have become! What kind of hope do you think I can expect from this world? What chance of cure? Just a few hours ago I have contemptuously been told that I'll have to forget my powers and disappear in the shadows because, even in this pitiful condition, my continued miserable existence could turn out to be a danger for my fellow wizards. I refuse to live according to these impositions! There is still a choice, and that choice is only mine! But, of course, you cannot understand…" he concludes angrily, more upset than he would like to admit, ashamed and embarrassed about his confession of such private feelings to a former student! His life, his destiny, depending on a mere girl! How absolutely intolerable!

But now something unpredictable occurs.

"You know, Professor, there is one thing you never asked me," the girl begins calmly, and her voice vibrates in repressed tension. "Have you never wondered why I requested the… 'honour' of assisting you during your coma?"

He is taken by surprise, and suddenly remembers the joyful voice welcoming him back to the world. She has helped him to return. How can he ask her to assist him in his leaving? Frustrated, he shrugs in impatience and bitterly replies, "Is there a particular reason why I should know?"

"I think that there is one, and that one is very important for you and for me just now," she answers quietly. "Please hear me out. It's an unpleasant story, but I'll try to make it short. It happened during my last year at Hogwarts, when the Dark Lord's renewed persecution against our world had just begun. As you probably know, I am a half-blood… like you."

Her voice is defying now, daring him to retort. But he's listening in silence, his firmly pressed lips the only sign of his strain.

"My father was a Muggle doctor. He is the real reason for my being here at St. Mungo's. One night, while I was still in school, two Death Eaters entered our house. Father was at home with my mother. She was upstairs, reading a book, while he was busy in his studio. I know these details because my mother told me everything… afterwards. Well, anyway, a masked man and a woman arrived, taking my father by surprise. He wasn't able to defend himself, because obviously he hadn't any magical ability. He tried to warn my mother so that she at least could have the chance to escape, but she didn't want to leave him. The Death Eaters were extremely pleased to discover that she was a pure-blood. They accused her of being a traitor and… and…"

Her voice breaks for a moment, but then she resolutely finds the strength to go on.

"Thankfully… I have to use this word, my father was recovering from a recent heart attack, so his end was fortunately… swift. They were going to kill my mother too, but another masked man arrived and prevented them from doing so, '_because_', he said, '_they needed a witness to spread the news_'.

The girl's speech has momentarily ceased. She is angrily wiping her eyes now, and Severus takes this pause to say, with cold courtesy, "I'm sorry for your father, Miss Ingham. But I still don't understand what this has to do with me."

"You will soon enough!" she brutally replies with unusual sharpness. "I have ceaselessly thought about that horrid night and of those Death Eaters who destroyed my family. And I wonder… which one of those men were you, Professor? The first… or the last to arrive? You must tell me, please! My response to your request will depend on your answer."

The question sounds startling but, in a way, it has not come totally unexpected. Severus has participated in so many terrible events, has witnessed so many terrible scenes, that he is always surprised that nobody ever thought to accuse him of any of them. He is even more surprised that he'd never remembered that this girl's family had been involved, because he knows perfectly well what occurred that night in her house. And perhaps this is the last nudge he needs to force her resolution. But which lever to use? Hate or love? Truth or lie?

He covers his face with his hands, hiding his expression from her scrutiny. Then he mumbles, whilst memories return more and more vividly, "Morris Keith Ingham…wasn't this the name?"

"Yes!" the girl has paled horribly at seeing her suspicions confirmed. He can perceive her desperate anxiety.

"And you lived in a little house in the country, near Oxford?" He asks again, raising his head as if to 'look' at her.

"So I was right, you have been there!" She closes her eyes in pain.

He comes to a decision. Tough and extreme. "I was the first one, Miss Ingham. I reached your house with Bellatrix Lestrange and I couldn't refuse to help her. Otherwise, I would have destroyed my cover. I'm sorry your father was involved, but war is cruel and has to be fought with cruelty."

A long, long and uncomfortable silence. Finally, the girl says in a quiet tone, her uneven voice revealing an immense bitterness, "Then I want to know everything. Why did you let that evil, sadistic woman carve the Dark Mark onto my father's arm with her wand? Wasn't his torture and humiliation enough without this added insult? That mark is only for Death Eaters… why would you allow it? Was your acquiescence so very necessary to prove your loyalties?"

He is angry now, as if regretting his confession, "I told you! I had no choice. Bellatrix would have immediately realised if…"

But he is brusquely cut off by her unexpectedly triumphant voice, "You are lying. YOU ARE LYING! I know because I just invented that detail, and only the _second_ man would not have realised that!"

Another terrible pause, then the girl exclaims in exultance, "I was right! You saved my mother! And now you will be able to understand why I asked to assist you during your coma. I didn't know who was her saviour, but when Harry told us how you helped him in the dungeons, I thought _you_ could have been that man."

Severus is defeated. He has entered the trap without any suspicion. Such a young, innocent girl, yet she has been able to fool him! He drops his head in despair, his mind whirling in violent emotion. He has definitely lost. She will never help him now… not now that she knows the truth.

But again he is wrong.

The girl has come close and hesitantly places a hand over his wrist. Words stumble in a rush now, as if she were afraid of what she is doing yet forced to do it anyway, while she asks softly, "Why have you lied to me, Professor?"

"Isn't it clear?" he replies bitterly. "I was simply wishing to arouse your hate… instead I've only managed to stir your compassion!"

He turns his head, detesting himself, detesting his helplessness and, above all, detesting the girl and the feelings of concern flowing so powerfully from her that he can almost touch them. But now she moves even closer, so close that he can breathe her delicate scent while her hand tightens on his wrist in apprehension.

"Are you… are you really suffering so much… as to desire to die?" Her voice is a troubled whisper. But he doesn't answer her question. He just stiffens, curling his lips in resentment while he mutters through gritted teeth, "Please spare me your pity! Just leave me be now. I'll find another way…"

And, unexpectedly, he feels a cold sensation against his fingers. The little bottle has been placed in his hands. He gasps at that incredible event and, suddenly, another vivid thought lacerates the darkness of his mind. With the bottle, she is also placing her life in his hands. After such a 'mistake', she won't be allowed to remain at St. Mungo's any longer. Her career, her hopes, her dreams will be irrevocably destroyed. So many lives has he ruined because of his hate! Is he also willing to ruin her existence that she is consigning, so unreservedly, to his decision? Is he going to reject Dumbledore's last words of hope, thus failing the only one who always trusted him to the very end? And yet… why should he refuse what the girl is offering? Yes, why… considering how desperately he wanted it, just a few moments before?

Violent, unfamiliar emotions tear painfully at his soul. A flow of sensations, all extremely and amazingly strong, abruptly fills his mind, stirring up moments and feelings that he thought lost because they had previously been buried so deeply within his heart. At the same time, as if reflecting his interior struggle, the little bottle begins to rhythmically pulse, vibrating more and more convulsively in his hands until it suddenly breaks, shedding its content over the floor.

He jumps, startled and in shock. Then he hears her voice. Surprisingly, she doesn't sound upset at all. Her tone is calm now, unexpectedly mature, while she soberly declares, "I knew it. This wasn't really your wish."

Baffled, he turns his head questioningly at her, a confused, bewildered expression shaping his features. She smiles, an incredibly wise and sad smile that he can't see but only sense, and explains softly.

"Few know about this, Professor, but potions and remedies at St. Mungo's are placed under powerful, protective enchantments, to prevent accidental… or deliberate misuse. Actually, to be used, a medicine has to comply with three basic conditions. First, a Mediwizard has to administer it. Then, it must be used only to cure… And finally, a remedy can be given as a poison, but only to ease a painful, inevitable death, not to cause it. However, to achieve this last condition, there must also be a very strong will and purity of intentions in those wishing to use it for this purpose. I gave you the draught, so I accomplished the first requirement. But the medicine 'felt' your inner hesitation and decided you weren't ready for it."

"It was only… a matter of will?" he whispers in anguish. Then another question hits him and, absurdly, he asks her in an accusing tone, "But you gave me the draught anyway! What if the remedy had let me use it?"

"Well, in that case, 'I' wouldn't have let you, Professor…" she replies serenely. "Don't you remember? I'm a Healer, not a murderess! I believe that your life still deserves to be lived. And the medicine confirmed my opinion."

He is lost in a sea of pure, painful, unknown emotions, the ones he always despised, the ones he never learned to manage, the ones he never needed to use in a life favouring hate, hypocrisy and terror. Then, a sudden thought forces him to miserably ask, even against his will, "If you were so sure of my feelings, why didn't you immediately give me the bottle?"

"Because I needed an incentive to make you answer the question about my family. Should I have asked you openly, you'd have probably refused to reply. And I needed to know. So, I took the opportunity."

He is absolutely livid now, even if something strangely similar to relief seems to be powerfully mixing with his other emotions. He draws a deep breath then he orders in a low, deadly timbre, "Out of this room, now, Miss Ingham! IMMEDIATELY! Leave me be, right now!!!"

Imperturbable, she wishes him a good night. Then she calmly adds, "I know it was manipulative on my part, Professor, but I'm glad you answered. Thank you very much for my mother." And, without warning, she leans to kiss him quickly on his cheek. Caught by surprise, he recoils violently, looking even more furious, yet somewhat unable to manage a more significant reaction.

"OUT-OF-THIS-ROOM!!!" he finally howls in rage.

But the door has already closed softly behind her and, once more, Severus Snape is left alone to face the night and the haunting presences it always brings with its mournful silence.


	9. A dream

**A Matter of Will**

by Lady Memory

(simply Memory in SH and TPP)

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't obviously own anyone of the characters in this story, even if I would like to._

_Infinite thanks to my fantastic betas __**Misundersnape**__ and __**Jynx67**_

_All my sincere thanks to those reading and rewieving. Your comments are deeply appreciated. _

_**JUST ANOTHER LITTLE (?) MESSAGE**__: Sorry for being so late, but I have had a hard time trying to develop this chapter (thanks again, Misundersnape!), as I have been wanting to write it for a long time. I know that it is a difficult subject that has been tried by many authors, but it has always challenged me. Anyway, it was much tougher than I supposed. Hope the result is at least acceptable. _

_Now only three quick considerations: _

_1) Again__**, I haven't read DH and the characters in my novel are HBP compliant**__: please remember it! _

_2) Love is a many-splendored thing, of course... But also a powerful way to manipulate a person. This last reflection is for those who distrusted our twinkling Headmaster, as this chapter can be read in two different ways._

3) "Snape is probably the most emotionally open among all the staff" _– Whitehound, I have thought about this statement in your first review. You were right, and this chapter is a result also of those thoughts._

**Chapter 9 - A dream**

The night has finally arrived; it is, as always, unperceivable to Severus who is constantly living in the darkness. But this time new emotions have reached his soul, and he alternately let them soothe him or make him sink into depressing contemplations. The discussion with the girl - and the disconcerting events that followed - has upset him more than he could imagine, yet it has also filled him with a mysterious hope. For the very first time after so many weeks of desperation, Severus dares to think that perhaps life could still offer him something 'different', and that there could be somebody who might effectively care for him.

However, the darkness that traps his pupils is now slowly descending upon his exhausted brain. He fights to organize his thoughts in a less confusing way, but this struggle for light merely succeeds in exhausting him even further. So, tasting once more the bitter flavour of defeat - his imperfection has triumphed over his will again - he leans back in his chair with a sigh and attempts to recover at least the precious feelings he had been so unexpectedly experiencing.

Because on this night Severus would like to forget his pain and be allowed to dream: pure, beautiful, hopeful dreams, to chase away the anguish that is constantly devouring his mind, to comfort his wounded soul, to relax his tormented body. Yet, this night his armchair has become a prison and its unyielding structure an unbearable limitation; so, after a sudden decision, he rises and tries to reach his bed. But he does not make it.

A strange, unknown presence is unexpectedly at his side, a gentle pressure that urges him to cease his tentative steps and obliges him to kneel on the floor. Unable to rise, curling up in defencelessness, he submits to the will of this powerful force, allowing it to envelop him slowly. Deeper and deeper he sinks into unconsciousness… until he finally hears a voice.

"_Into my hands is your beginning, Severus..."_

Albus! After so many years, the sound of these words still has the power to move him intensely, stirring something buried deeply inside him. His heart twists, while a light shiver shakes his body. His hands clench forcefully into fists as he once more disappears into the terrifying world of memories.

-------

_The Dark Lord is staring thoughtfully at the bundle of pain lying at his feet. Severus Snape has just been cruelly punished for having deplorably failed his mission: finding the powerful enemy indicated by the prophecy. The young Death Eater, so promising in his talent, had months ago unpredictably stumbled upon the telling of strange words that had instantly proved more than essential for his Master. Perceiving the immense value of these little grains of information so inexorably indicating a mortal danger, the Dark Lord has immediately sent his servants on a desperate quest to extract every possible little clue that could lead to an identification of this impending menace. _

_Alas! Days, weeks and even months have passed, yet nothing has been discovered, neither the identity nor the location of this formidable rival, so threatening in his unknown qualities. And finally, at this last, repeated, unsuccessful report, rage and frustration have burned the Dark Lord's mind. Again and again, in an increasingly intimidating atmosphere, Severus tries to convince his Master of his sincere loyalty and incessant dedication… Unfortunately, this is no more a matter of will, and his vehement assertions soon frightfully change into pure, blind, abject terror under Voldemort's furious reaction. _

_Livid in anger, the Dark Lord releases the violence of his immense power on his unsuccessful servant, torturing him as cruelly as to bring him terribly near to death. Never in his life had Severus imagined that such a horror, such a pain could be real! Panic explodes uncontrollably in his soul, screaming silently in hopeless desperation against this unjust punishment. Perceiving the flood of these powerful feelings, the Dark Lord ceases his torment and curls his lips in an evil, merciless expression that turns his face into a demonic mask._

"_Does it hurt, Snape?" he addresses his victim in cold rage. "Then perhaps next time you'll have a reason to be more successful in your duty!" He raises his wand again, ready to strike, when something unexpected happens. With a terrible effort, jaws rigid for the horrible suffering he is experiencing, Severus unbelievably overcomes the pain and stammers fiercely, somewhat resentfully, "I... I'm a l-loyal servant, m-my Lord..."_

_The Dark Lord lowers his wand in incredulous wonder. He was expecting supplications, tears and an anguished plea for mercy. Yet, in spite of the agonizing terror, the young wizard writhing at his feet has incredibly been able to react and cut off his emotions. This has required an amazing amount of control, a really astonishing result to perform under torture. Where does this admirable discipline come from?_

_Suddenly interested, the Dark Lord now carefully considers this strange, unpredicted revelation. The boy - because Snape is effectively no more than a boy - is tougher than expected. So many of his older fellows have, in comparison, immediately broken in agony and submitted their will in a desperate offer, yielding themselves to stop the pain and bowing to the immense, malignant power towering over them. But this one seems different. He has been crushed, yet he conserves a spark of pure essence inside. Not a slippery sycophant like Malfoy, not a stolid follower like Crabbe or Goyle, not a fervent yet limited servant like Rockwood or Avery, but a man who can experience absolute terror and still refuse to submit... because of his pride. How valuable such a personality could be!_

_The Dark Lord has a cruel smile as he watches a shaking Severus Snape force himself to resume his kneeling posture. Perhaps there is still a hope, and this interesting young man could become the countermove in a plan that is already beginning to take shape. With a sudden decision, Voldemort crosses his arms. Raising his head in incredulous relief, Severus understands that he has been spared and bows again in submission._

"_I'll give you another chance to redeem yourself, Snape," Voldemort says with his peculiar irony. "You see that the Dark Lord is not as unfair as you think."_

_Snape flinches at these words, understanding that his emotions have betrayed him. This is exactly what his Master wants. The man knelt deferentially at his feet cannot be subdued by brute force, but will unconditionally submit to a power that he believes superior._

_Now the Dark Lord hardens his voice. "You have been extremely careless in your duty, Snape, and I cannot accept your miserable excuses. So, I have an assignment for you to prove that you really are the loyal follower you proclaim to be."_

_Weighing his words, Voldemort pauses intentionally, staring at Severus. "I need to identify my enemy, and there is a man who can help us in this task - even if, of course, unwillingly. I want you to visit with Albus Dumbledore."_

"_With... Dumbledore, Master?!" Severus opens his eyes in shock, yet Voldemort can easily perceive that the young man is already planning a strategy. What an organized mind! So clever, but also so potentially dangerous... _

_The Dark Lord narrows his eyes, "Scared, Snape? Dumbledore has been your Headmaster. I'm sure he wouldn't refuse to meet one of his dear, old students."_

_Severus feels a strange pang at the idea, but he hides his feelings under a mask of concern. "Your wish is my command, Master. My only fear is that I could disappoint you again..."_

_With a cruel spark in his eyes, the Dark Lord replies with deliberate malignity, "The old fool is eager to trust to good intentions. Unlike me, he has always been happy to give a second chance to those who have made a mistake ... and you have made a huge one indeed! So, use your creativity, Snape. Take advantage of those touching paternal feelings. I imagine it shouldn't be difficult with these bruises on your face..." _

_Voldemort has a sinister, meaningful smile then he turns serious again. "Let him believe that you regret your choices and that you may be willing to reconsider your loyalties. But, above all, tell him that 'Lord Voldemort' now knows. He will act consequently and his actions will reveal to us where to find this powerful, nameless enemy." _

_Another frightening pause follows, then the Dark Lord slowly adds, "And remember, Snape, this time I will not forgive your failure. I want to know who my adversary is. So, it's your success or your head. You have been warned."_

_The Dark Lord Disapparates with a vivid flash of light while Snape bows again in obedience, his mind already pondering the most bizarre and desperate ideas regarding this new, dangerous mission._

_--------_

_Only a day has passed and Severus is already waiting outside Dumbledore's office. Time is of the essence when the Dark Lord gives an order. The young wizard has carefully crafted his plan in the best possible way, then he has sent an owl to ask for an appointment. Needless to say, Dumbledore has been eager to grant it. Only the mention of an urgent, delicate matter requesting his attention, and the old fool has immediately swallowed the bait. How infinitely superior the Dark Lord is! No way to take him by surprise with such a pathetic trap! Feeling pain and pride awaken in the same instant, Severus unconsciously touches his bruised face, whilst confidence fills his heart. It won't be difficult to deceive his former Headmaster with empty words of apology and remorse... _

_Nevertheless, the young wizard feels strangely uncomfortable at the idea of this impending meeting: many confused emotions are welling in his chest and he's continuously struggling to regain his composure. He can't let his feelings betray his intentions! Dumbledore can read in people's eyes... perhaps not as perfectly as the Dark Lord - and another fit of pride mixes to uneasiness - yet well enough to discover a lie. Severus closes his eyes, breathes deeply until he feels calm again then knocks at the door._

"_Come in!" The gentle voice that he remembers so well invites him in. Ready to perform his act, the young wizard enters resolutely, his characteristic brooding expression concealing his inner agitation._

"_Ah, Severus! I'm glad you arrived! You sent me a very alarming message yesterday. I do hope you will explain it all much better to me now." Dumbledore is sitting at his desk, his face displaying the same mild smile that Snape has always detested__. The Headmaster's eyes twinkle strangely as he considers his visitor's scraped features, but no other comments are added._

_Concentrating on his task, Severus stops in front of the desk and begins to speak hurriedly, succeeding very well in looking both apologetic and arrogant. "Thank you very much, Professor, for receiving me after such short notice..." _

"_Please take a seat. You look very tired," Dumbledore gently interrupts him. A bit disconcerted by this quiet understanding, Severus sits and resumes his speech. _

"_It's difficult to explain..." he says in low voice, rubbing his face in simulated anxiety so to hide his eyes from a more careful scrutiny. _

_The tough part is coming now. How to justify in a credible way that he has reported the Prophecy to the Dark Lord but now he is remorseful?_

_"I have made a huge error in judgement..." he finally murmurs as if in anguish, and unexpectedly feels his stomach churn in real pain. Suddenly, all the possible sentences he had so carefully prepared in the last hours seem to have been brutally wiped from his mind, and instead he finds himself fumbling for words._

"_Well, I think I have caused such… trouble... and many lives are in great danger now..." Severus raises his eyes and lets desperation sparkle inside them. Dumbledore is still listening, his fingers crossed under his chin, an expression of polite interest on his features._

_"As you certainly remember, months ago, I unwittingly interrupted you at the Hog's Head, while... while you were listening to that eccentric woman. I... I was there looking for my friends..." Silence becomes intolerable. A real confusion is possessing Snape now. Why isn't this hateful old man reacting to his statements, wondering, accusing, or simply saying something?_

"_Your friends, you say, Severus?" Finally the great wizard deigns to speak. "Why don't you call them by their real name?"_

_A terrible sensation of resentment tightens Snape's heart while he replies bitterly, "I have always called them 'friends', as they are the only ones I've ever had."_

"_Well, then let's say that your friends have a very peculiar way of demonstrating their friendship," Dumbledore states mildly, looking pointedly at Snape's devastated face. _

_Too many anguishing memories are ready to snap under these words! In spite of all his control, Severus bursts out in response, "I consider them my friends because they are the only ones who don't despise me! Not one of your precious Gryffindors ever let me belong! I was dirt, I was rubbish to them!" _

_For the first time, Dumbledore seems to react. He sighs and declares sadly, "You are right, Severus, you are so terribly right..."_

_Unexpectedly unbalanced by this admission, the young wizard suddenly feels the desperate need to talk, to shock, to hurt that calm old man looking at him with those unbearably compassionate eyes. In this precious instant, Dumbledore's confession seems to possess an immense attraction, much more appealing than his dark Master's command. For a moment suspended in eternity, Severus faces the intense desire to unlock his soul to the man before him, and finally receive the same consideration his hated Gryffindor rivals always seemed to be entitled to by birthright. But, of course, this is an absurd hope. His life depends on the result of this mission!_

_So, trembling in the effort of fighting back these violent emotions, he exclaims in anger, "This is an irrelevant matter now. I wasn't there to spy, but I involuntarily heard what that woman was saying; it sounded important and, I regret to say, I reported it to the Dark Lord."_

_He stops, panting, and looks fiercely at Dumbledore. A confession has been made. What will happen now?_

"_I see," the Headmaster calmly answers. "Should I deduce that he wasn't satisfied with your information?"_

_This is the toughest part. Now he must be very convincing. _

"_Of course he wasn't! Those words have disturbed him so much that he has devoted himself - and many others along with him - to the quest of discovering and destroying this upcoming enemy. I failed his expectations, so yesterday he tortured me... and it was __horrible__!" A glimpse of true revulsion revives in his eyes and the older wizard can easily catch it, while Severus cries out in perfect sincerity, "I don't wish to suffer it again!"_

"_I see. So, why have you come to speak to me, given that you have these so affectionate friends?" Dumbledore asks, always in the same mild tone._

_The young wizard hesitates then words rush out in short sentences. "I told you. I've made a terrible mistake. I understand it finally. You are the only one who can help me, as you alone are powerful enough." _

_Dumbledore's voice hardens a little. "What exactly would you like me to do, Severus?"_

_Severus' heart twists in repulsion. He is forced to beg a man he has always detested and his pride is torturing him. Yet, he implores, "I have reconsidered my choices. The sufferings I have been inflicted have made me think. I don't believe I can be one of his followers any longer. Please help me! I know I've made a big mistake, but, in return, I offer you my confession. This will give you a chance to save the ones who are involved in the prophecy. The Dark Lord is going to hunt them ferociously and his pursuit will not stop until he finds them... and me. You are the only one who can protect us all." _

"_Indeed." Dumbledore's voice now has a steel note inside. "And what proof will you offer me of your honesty? You will admit, Severus, that I may find it difficult to believe you."_

_Trembling in his effort to sound sincere - to "be sincere" - Severus replies, "I have already put my life into your hands, Headmaster, saying what I've said. I've practically admitted to being a Death Eater and a traitor. For what I know, you could denounce me to the Aurors right now!"_

_The old wizard's eyes have a more accentuated twinkle. Something terribly similar to pity is slowly insinuating in his gaze, and Severus feels triumphant. Dumbledore never was able to resist a frank self-accusation. This is how Black saved himself after the prank. The young wizard exults inwardly, thinking how easy it is to manipulate honest people._

"_Thank you very much, Severus," Dumbledore finally says, after having contemplated the boy for what seems an interminable time. "I already knew that the Dark Lord was searching for his enemy. I had also supposed that this was happening because of your information. Still, I'm glad that you came here. I'll do my best to avoid that you and the people involved in this situation may suffer for your imprudence."_

"_This is all?" Snape asks, shocked by these unexpected, startling revelations and by the old man's benevolence, even if this last hasn't come completely unexpected. "No denouncement, no punishment?"_

"_You know that I'm not going to denounce you. That's why you are here. And about a punishment, well, I believe you've already received a harsh one indeed. You can go, now. Thank you very much again."_

_Severus is feeling strangely dizzy. Till now, he has been extraordinarily lucky, even too much, perhaps. So, hesitantly, he asks, "I still have a question. I'm feeling guilty for my mistake. I believe I should do something to repair it. It's dangerous, but I could go back to the Dark Lord while he is still unsuspecting and try to discover what he is going to do... Maybe even focus his efforts on a false target... But in this case, I would need to know who the ones I'll have to protect are... "_

"_This is very kind indeed of you, Severus. But didn't you tell me just a few moments ago that you were scared of your Master's likely reactions? Why put yourself in such a hazardous situation?" Dumbledore's voice sounds sincerely concerned, yet Severus is instantly alarmed. And, in fact, the Headmaster continues nonchalantly, his tone becoming gently ironical, "I'm sorry, Severus, but the names you are looking for will remain safely locked in my skull for the moment. Lord Voldemort, as your Master likes to call himself, will have to propose me a better deal if he wishes to know them." _

_Terrified at the result of his enquiry, the young wizard asks agitatedly, "What do you mean? You still don't trust me after what I've told you?!"_

"_Do you really think I should?" Dumbledore replies with a quiet smile, and Severus sees an abyss of desperation opening under his feet._

"_I should have known," he therefore exclaims accusingly, struggling against the waves of panic invading him. "I was a fool deciding to come here! You are using me for your own purposes as you did some years ago!"_

_Dumbledore immediately furrows his brows in an unspoken question and the young wizard clenches his fists, ready for an extreme attempt, his final card to play. "Do you remember the last time we met in this room? I had just survived a... a visit at the Shrieking Shack. That night, you promised that you would have been forever in debt to me if I kept the secret about Lupin's affliction. Well, I'm asking you to fulfil that promise now."_

"_Oh, I will. But not in the way you think, Severus." The old wizard states solemnly. _

"_Then in what other way?!" The boy is almost shouting now, rage and fear tightening him in a more and more forceful grip. His mission is failing. His intentions have been discovered. The frightening perspective of a meeting with a furious Dark Lord is dancing before his eyes. No escape from such a powerful enemy... but also no escape from his old adversaries, as he has just confessed his true allegiance._

_Dumbledore is attentively considering the distressed young man. Suddenly, he has another of his startling changes. "I see you are worried for yourself, Severus. Perhaps you are right and perhaps I owe you a reward. I'll show you the ones you have endangered with your imprudence. Both the Longbottoms and the Potters have had a baby boy who could fulfil the prophecy. I believe you know very well at least this second name, don't you?"_

_Bewildered, incredulous, Severus opens his mind to memories. The serious face of Frank Longbottom and the ingenuous smile of his wife Alice flash for a moment and disappear in the distance. But the images that are powerfully rising immediately after, give him a shocking pang. Unknowingly, he has involved his worst enemy, his most hated schoolmate, in this mortal trap! Now they both are linked by this chain of horror... Despite his agitation, a wicked satisfaction burns in Severus' heart and a revengeful smile slowly curls his lips. _

_Watching his reaction in sadness, Dumbledore turns grave and firmly states, "You are indebted to James Potter as a result of that night!"_

_Indignant, Severus has a violent reply. "I'm not! He wanted to kill me, he and that arrogant Black friend of his, and they almost succeeded."_

_Dumbledore is even graver now. "James didn't know what Sirius' intentions were and, as soon as he knew, he came immediately to rescue you."_

"_So? What's the big deal? Lupin was his friend, so he had nothing to fear. Potter's only concern was punishment but, of course, you didn't even think about such a possibility!"_

_The old wizard is clearly angered at that accusation. "Should I remind you that a werewolf doesn't know friends or parents after his transformation? James was even more scared than you were, because he knew the risks! You owe him your life... however, if you refuse to admit your debt I won't discuss the matter anymore with you. But tell me, what about Lily, his wife? If I remember well, she liked you and helped you so many times. It's her son you have consigned to the Dark Lord... And what wrong did Frank and Alice do to deserve such a horrible destiny for their child?"_

_Dumbledore stares at the rebellious, sulky young man with firm eyes. "Now tell me, Severus. Haven't you just committed the same fault you believe James and Sirius committed, endangering the lives of others? Why should your mistake be forgiven and not theirs? According to your logic, I shouldn't spare you now."_

_The strange force emanating from Dumbledore is making Snape writhe on his seat. It's something painful yet strangely, intolerably sweet, a little burning fire that is slowly melting the frost covering his heart. And then, unexpected, the disconcerting atmosphere the old wizard had previously evocated comes back again. The Headmaster closes his eyes in sorrow and declares softly, as if he were speaking directly to Severus' soul, "But this time you are right, and I owe you an explanation. That night, I was helping a student, a boy that was even more unfortunate than yourself, because he had unwillingly incurred his misfortune, while you've voluntarily put yourself in a terrible situation..."_

"_That night I perceived your anger, I saw your disappointment, I regretted my tolerance. But alas! I had no choice. That prank was a consequence of my decisions, because I was the one that had admitted Remus at Hogwarts and I was responsible for him! I didn't punish Sirius and James as harshly as I should, because another life was at stake there. Remus' secret would have probably been discovered if we had made too much noise about it. I didn't want him to carry the weight of my mistake for the rest of his days but, apparently, I have put an unbearable burden upon your shoulders since then. I sincerely blame myself, Severus! So many years I've regretted my mistake, so many years I've waited for you to return to where you belong. I don't expect you to trust me now, but..."_

_This painful compassion brings Snape to a definitive break. "What the hell am I going to do with your understanding?!" he shouts. "I needed it when I was a child... but you were always ready to protect your beloved Gryffindors! Now... now it's too late... I've made a choice, I've signed a pact, I've even been marked!!!"_

_This last word comes out in a cry. The boy is shaking violently. His emotions are strangling him. Slowly, he lifts his sleeve to show the unmistakable proof on his left arm and says in a whisper, "I am his loyal follower now, and nobody can ever change this-"_

"_Nobody except yourself, Severus! And I am ready to fulfil my promise, if you are willing to accept my offer." _

_The boy is still trembling, his eyes focused on Dumbledore in the mesmerized horror of somebody lost in a threatening yet fascinating sight. Only his shallow breaths are breaking the placid quietness of the room, revealing the interior struggle devastating his spirit. Finally, he asks in a remote voice, "And if I accept, what are you going to ask me in return?"_

"_Exactly what you have just offered me: to protect the innocents and to save the many other lives you have so inconsiderately put in danger with your actions." Dumbledore's gaze digs into Severus, and the great wizard seems to suddenly blaze in awesome glory. "To be the saviour of your kind, the people your Master so cruelly despises." Then, lowering his voice in an incisive tone, a quiet fire still burning inside him, the Headmaster adds slowly, firmly, intentionally, "To be my ears and my eyes at the court of that merciless monster. To fight his evil power... or to honourably die. "_

_The young man widens his eyes in painful shock, then lowers his head in visible anguish. Dumbledore leans forward and lets the full tenderness of his power enfold the young man. "Please listen to me this one time, Severus. Allow this old man to amend his faults or at least try to. Are you really willing to serve a Master who treats his servants so mercilessly? How much time will pass before you disappoint him again... and this time forever? What is the Dark Lord offering you? A future of hate and fear, with no hope and no joy. Is this what you are really looking for? You are so young, Severus! Let your heart speak, not your hate..."_

_Snape raises his head. Doubt, fear and anguish struggle in his eyes, as they meet Dumbledore's gaze in a mute, suspended question. The old wizard understands and nods quietly, looking at him with a suddenly saddened expression. _

"_Yet, if you desire to go back to him, the door is open. Nobody will touch you, I promise!" _

_Severus is torn apart. The powerful stream of these so incredibly compassionate feelings has filled his soul with a tumult of contrasting emotions: the desperate desire to be accepted, to be needed, to be 'loved'... the horror his Master is inspiring him after that last cruel punishment, so viciously performed... the sincere concern he feels in Dumbledore's words, wrapping around his exhausted spirit like a comforting balm... And the excruciating remorse he feels about Lily, the only one who trusted and treated him like a friend..._

_The young man fights silently against these lacerating sensations until he finally buries his face in his hands. Then, shaking his head in a last attempt to resist, he whispers in a broken voice, "Let me go, please! Let me go... I don't deserve your mercy!"_

_Tears force their way on his cheeks, while anguish and hate slowly transform themselves into an overwhelming torrent of passions. Dumbledore watches this struggle with an immense compassion and, when Severus lowers his head in liberating sobs, he says in a kind, low tone, "Into my hands is your beginning, Severus. Think about my words. But, above all, listen to your heart. I will wait for you..." _

Memories abruptly vanish and Severus has a little movement in his sleep, a sudden pang twisting his heart while his mind interrogates itself in an anxious doubt.

"_Into my hands is your beginning, Severus..."_

No, these were the words he _thought_ he had heard. But the effective words - he understands it now - are slightly yet terribly different...

_"Into my 'end' is your beginning, Severus."_

In a whirl of emotions, Snape unexpectedly realizes what he hadn't realized in all these years. It was a promise; the most important and binding promise Dumbledore had ever made him! Feeling his useless eyes burn in the impossible need to cry, Severus savours this unexpected gift of his memory and finally slips in a blessed rest.

A few minutes later, as if summoned by an arcane call, a concerned Poppy Pomfrey silently opens the door to pay a last visit to the troubled man she has learned to care for. A thin blade of light cuts the darkness of the room, extending its length until it gradually illuminates a motionless shape, quietly sleeping on the floor.

Alarmed, Poppy is ready to enter and bend eagerly to check her patient. But her eyes widen immediately in incredulous surprise, while her face relaxes with a tender expression. For the very first time in so many weeks, Severus Snape is smiling in his slumber, the touching, trustful smile of a child resting safely in his bed.


	10. Reasons to hope

**A Matter of Will**

_by Lady Memory_

_(simply Memory in SH and TPP)_

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer:**__I don't obviously own anyone of the characters in this story, even if I would like to._

_Infinite thanks go to my fantastic beta __**Jynx67**__ for her patience and her many, useful suggestions. _

_**Important**__: All my sincere thanks to those reading and reviewing my story. Your comments are deeply appreciated. _

_**MESSAGE**__: Sorry for being so late, but life and work have been very demanding lately. I've calculated that I need more or less one month for each chapter, and I plan another 5 or 6 chapters for this story. Therefore, with a bit of luck, you should see the end around April..._:)

**Chapter 10 (part 1) – Reasons to hope, reasons to despair…**

It's morning again, and Severus contemplates the world with his sightless eyes. A fresh force is burning in his veins; a new resolution is hardening his features. After the dream, a constant thought has been repeating incessantly in his mind: _Albus wouldn't have lied to him_. There must be a way to solve the situation, in spite of his blindness and Scrimgeour's decisions! But how difficult it is to decide a move now… trapped as he is in this room by the darkness. Who can he count on his side, who can he hope to be his hands and his eyes in the days to come?

These are the moments in which he most acutely misses his power. No spells, no wand, no magic: he has to conduct himself like a Muggle, after a life in which his magical skills were continually improved to practically reach perfection. While now, even the most common tools are failing him! Quills and parchments, for instance, were once his usual companions in the highly organized routine that allowed his plans to take shape. But at the present, he has no way to write down his thoughts, no possibility to read them and no chance to hide them safely away. Everything must be locked in his mind, and he is still lost in deep meditation when a soft knock at the door announces the ill-timed arrival of one of his helpers.

"Come in!" He reacts harshly, irritated for being interrupted. Today, strangely, Poppy is not the first one to visit him. Unexpectedly, it's Miss Ingham's gentle voice to greet him good morning, and he replies with his most exasperated tone, the one he reserves for the people that are decidedly NOT welcome.

But Miss Ingham is definitely used to his manners. Furthermore, this morning she seems to be annoyingly cheerful, and all his efforts to making her feel uneasy – their last conversation is still unpleasantly burning in his memory – go completely lost. She brings him his breakfast, patiently waits until he has finished then she excuses herself for a moment.

Sighing wearily in frustration, Severus tries to tie up his disconnected thoughts. A little part of his brain is wandering in apprehension. Normally, it is Poppy the one who takes care of his needs in the morning, helping him to clean and dress. These duties are habitually spared to Miss Ingham, to save Severus' dignity and to make him feel as comfortable as possible within his limitations. So, Severus is suddenly alarmed at the idea that some of the unpleasant changes so arrogantly announced by Rufus might have already occurred overnight.

But would Poppy go back to Hogwarts without telling him? No, surely she wouldn't…

Reassured, he dismisses the thought and returns again to his considerations. Yet, the situation has given him a painful twinge, while making him acutely realize how dependent he has become on Poppy's friendly support. How few are the ones he can really trust and count on… too few! A vivid image of Harry Potter lazily flashes in his mind, but it's immediately banished in cold determination. No, he is not so desperate yet as to beg his most hated student for help!

The soft sound of slowly approaching footsteps brings him back from his meditation. Miss Ingham has returned again, but this time there is somebody else with her. A hardly repressed excitement transpires from the girl's voice while she says, "Professor Snape, I'm pleased to introduce you to Doctor Harvey Ingham, my grandfather. He is an excellent ophthalmologist, and he came here to visit you while you were still unconscious."

**The Doctor**

Severus is disconcerted. What other tricks is the insufferable Miss Ingham playing this morning? His lips curl in that annoyed pout the girl knows so well, and Becky can't help a smile that, thankfully, goes completely unnoticed by her angry Professor.

Preventing any possible comment, a male voice is now enthusiastically greeting him. "Ah, good morning, Professor Snape! Finally I have the chance to meet you in person! I'm very glad you have recovered."

Severus heard the sound of a chair being positioned near his, then Miss Ingham saying quietly, "Here, Grandpa, you should be more comfortable sitting."

Doctor Ingham is evidently determined to speak with him, and not just for a few seconds! Severus is even more irritated. He is not in the mood to have a conversation; he is still struggling against the many practical problems his imperfection is bringing. He also feels uncomfortable about himself. He hasn't washed, he hasn't shaved. What an indecorous sight he must be! Again, he clenches his fists in frustration, detesting his helplessness and the girl that is so inconsiderately putting him in such a situation! But every challenge is a matter of will to him, so he forces himself to remain calm.

"Doctor Ingham?" He coldly enunciates, hoping his unfriendly tone will at least make his visitor understand how annoyed he is. But at that same moment, a sudden consideration fills him with a trembling hope: _why_ is Miss Ingham so joyful? Has something new happened? Has perhaps her famous grandfather found a treatment for his eyes?

Lost in a sea of thrilling possibilities, he hesitates, only to realize that he is being very impolite. So, automatically, he stretches out a hand to greet his visitor. But his fingers merely grasp the air and, embarrassed at not finding another hand clasping his, he stops his gesture, feeling uneasy… and hurt. However, proud as he is, he tries to disguise his action by waving casually and continuing his speech.

"This is… this is an unexpected… honour…" he begins to say uncertainly. Then another stunning consideration hits him again, and he exclaims in surprise, "Doctor Ingham?!… But you must be a Muggle! How can you possibly…?"

He trails off in confusion, realizing how his statement should sound awkward and rude; yet he feels even more confused at hearing the nice, soft chuckle, typical of an old man, responding to his words.

"Yes, I am a Muggle. Don't worry, Professor, you have not insulted me. I am used to that name. My son married a witch, and after his marriage, I have learned a lot of things I would otherwise never even suspect about the wizarding world!"

Doctor Ingham's voice is pleasant and well educated, and Severus feels his tension slowly ebb away, while his brain quickly weighs the situation. This unexpected visitor is a valuable personality and an important specialist; surely a worthwhile addition to Severus' currently miserable list of possible allies. So, with an instant decision, the dark wizard switches his mood from anger to courtesy, displaying all the charm of his deep, magnificent voice.

"I'm greatly relieved, Doctor. Thank you for your kindness, and again, let me apologise for my deplorable manners. You said you visited me when I was still unconscious? I thought that St. Mungo's was forbidden to… to Muggle doctors. May I ask you how did you succeed in getting in here?"

"Oh, but you are most welcome!" The old man is evidently pleased. "Everything happened because of my son. He, too, was a doctor: a surgeon, to be precise, and a very talented one. As you can imagine, he was literally fascinated by the incredible potential that magic could offer to medicine, so he asked to join the hospital as an external consultant. I must admit that the Mediwizards always considered him with suspicion; however, they allowed him to try, and, in the end, they even gave him helpers! Here on the second floor, for instance, there is still a nice young fellow who assisted my son in his studies; perhaps you've met him, his name is Augustus Pye…"

A little pause, then, as if embarrassed for this long, personal digression, the Doctor hastens to conclude his thoughts. "Anyway, as soon as my son was settled in, I decided it was my turn to ask for permission. In my case, they were not too easy to convince, but I never gave up. I am a stubborn man, as is my granddaughter here!"

There is an unmistakable note of pride in his voice and Miss Ingham is ready to intervene, tenderness and amusement sparkling in her tone.

"Now, Grandpa, don't look so satisfied. Professor Snape knows me well enough!"

Doctor Ingham laughs again, his soft, nice chuckle, while Severus struggles against a growing impatience. He finds no more enjoyment in these long verbal skirmishes that once were one of his favourite pleasures. At present, his imperfection is painfully urging him. Time can't be wasted in useless conversation, certainly not now that his future is at stake. So, what about the news? Or better, IS there effectively any news?

He forces his breath to slow down while he cautiously ventures. "I'm honoured by your interest in my case. I was wondering if your visit is perhaps due to something that you may have possibly found or that you think could still be attempted…"

Ah, poor Severus! How tragically transparent he has become in his absolute darkness! Saddened, Becky lowers her eyes, while Doctor Ingham sighs in regret and gently strokes the bridge of his nose, trying to find the nicest form for his answer.

"Unfortunately", he begins, and his sympathetic tone slices at Severus with the precision of a scalpel, "my news hasn't changed since the first time I visited you. Let me explain. When you were still in a coma, I was consulted by the Mediwizards about the possibility of trying an eye transplant. Since all their attempts were unsuccessful, they were hoping that perhaps Muggle medicine could solve your problem with a different approach. Now, I effectuated many of these operations when I was younger, and of course, I would have been honoured to be of help… But, alas, your optic nerves have been transformed into stony fibres, while your eyes have literally been petrified as well… Never experienced anything like that in my life! No possibility for magical therapy, even less for a Muggle one!"

Doctor Ingham pauses in hesitation, as if he doesn't know exactly how to continue. With his new perceptive senses, Severus immediately realizes that his visitor is going to say something personal and, even worse, "comforting". Instantly, his wounded spirit reacts in resentment, creating an icy shell where words will fall and lie ineffective in a harsh denial of every kind of consolation.

In the meantime, alarmed by the cold silence following his explanation, Doctor Ingham uncertainly resumes, his old age now clearly showing in the frail timbre of his voice. "Anyway, today I am here for a personal reason…" Again, he hesitates in the presence of this difficult, austere interlocutor: his niece had warned him to be careful, so he anxiously tries to choose the right words. "Well, I just wanted to express my gratitude. I have been told of your heroic behaviour in the Wizarding War, so I know that we all are greatly indebted to you, even we unaware, ignorant Muggles…" – a pale attempt at sounding humorous, that the voice timidly changes again into a trembling declaration – "but… but above all, I wanted to thank you for my daughter in law, Becky's mother. She and my granddaughter are the only family I have left, so… so thank you very much again… for everything."

Still fighting against bitter disillusion, Severus only mumbles few, forced words. He is not caring to hide his sulky reaction, and Doctor Ingham smiles sadly in understanding. He knows very well the acrid taste of disappointment! So, when he speaks again, his tone becomes reassuringly calm and confident. The specialist is back in his role.

"I'm sorry. I can easily imagine your distress. Still, there are many ways to lessen it. Blind people can lead a normal life. In the Muggle world, we have created many devices to suit their particular needs. For instance, perhaps you could learn to use Braille. Are you familiar with this name? It's a kind of writing that uses patterns of raised dots that can be read by touch. Here, let me examine your fingers."

Diffidently – as he has always hated to be touched – yet again strangely hopeful, Severus stretches his arm out and, once more, he is surprised to meet only the air. But this time, unexpectedly, he can feel Miss Ingham's soft fingers gently grab his hand and place it in another one, warm and wrinkled.

"Let me help you, grandpa," she whispers. In that precise moment, Severus has a vivid flash of understanding and this sudden intuition freezes him in his wait. He doesn't almost breathe while Doctor Ingham regretfully says, "Calloused fingertips… A tribute to your manual skills, I imagine – I know you are an exceptional potion master - but also an indication of diminished cutaneous sensibility…"

"Oh, well," the old man finally declares, releasing Severus' hand, "it may be difficult for you, but not impossible! Soon you'll discover how efficiently your fingers can substitute your eyes."

There is a pause and then Doctor Ingham says with an unexpectedly playful tone, "Of course, with these delicate fingers used to surgery, it was easier for me."

A shocked silence follows this assertion, and he adds serenely, "Yes, I, too, am blind."

Severus is speechless. His intuition was right. This is why no hand clasped his before: because there were no eyes to guide it. His previous plans and worries now appear to be completely senseless, and he can only ask hoarsely, "When?"

"Oh, it happened almost eight years ago, and there was nothing they could do. Surprising destiny, don't you think, for a man who's spent his whole life helping his patients to maintain their sight… Yet, I can assure you, there is always a hope. I never felt desperate, not even a single day."

Severus hasn't words to reply. In these last few days, he has been touched by many unusual emotions, and his soul hasn't had the time to learn how to manage them adequately.

But Doctor Ingham seems to perceive these troubled feelings. Thoughtfully, he shakes his head then he asks his granddaughter, "I think I have bothered Professor Snape enough for this morning. Becky, would you please search for Madam Pomfrey? I would like to tell her goodbye before leaving the hospital."

"Of course, Grandpa." Becky understands his meaning and immediately leaves the room. Now the two men are alone, and Doctor Ingham quietly says, his voice low and vibrant in sympathy, "When we loose our sight, we gain different, more perceptive senses. A man like you has amazing, immense possibilities in his heart. You only have to discover them… and I'm sure you will."

Severus is still painfully silent. He is not ready to accept the comfort both the Inghams are offering him, even if he understands their kind intentions. He simply can't admit this meek resignation… Or perhaps he should?

An overwhelming longing for peace and serenity seems to suddenly possess his heart. The quiet calm radiating from the Doctor is highly infectious and attracts him so sweetly! Till now, Severus has been allowed to rely only upon the solid rock that is Poppy Pomfrey, using her as a target for his emotional outbursts - and thus mutely admitting his need for her care and attention. But although he has sometimes detested her for being so firm in her task, Poppy has been the main cause of his rebirth and she continues on, safely guiding him through the violent storms that are constantly rising in this part of his life.

And now, this surprising old man, totally unknown to Severus, yet so unexpectedly caring, is presenting him even more reasons to hope. Perhaps he should bow to their wisdom… and abandon his plans… and submit to a destiny over which he seems to have no more power…

The two men loose themselves in mute considerations, both following their own train of thoughts, until Poppy enters the room. The Doctor seems to instantly revitalize. He and the Mediwizard soon are engaged in a friendly conversation, and Ingham amiably teases his magical colleague in his gentle, affable way. Then, with a cordial farewell to Severus, he is ready to leave with his granddaughter.

As soon as the Inghams exit the room, Poppy rushes to take care of her patient. Doctor Ingham couldn't obviously notice some details, but she certainly can and she's fretting about them. In a few minutes, the man she is beginning to consider like a son is fresh and clean, and clearly relieved to be so. A strange impatience seems to pervade Poppy this morning, making her manners more nervous than usual, and Severus can't help but sombrely think that, decidedly, the day has become a source of continuous, unpleasant stress.

Unsurprisingly, hours seem to never pass in the usual, tedious routine that he is forced to follow by his inflexible assistant. However, the habitual little walk he is obliged to do – and that he cordially hates – this morning is remarkably short, and Poppy doesn't object when he insists to go back in his room. Relieved to be back in his sanctuary, he wearily sinks in the armchair, loosing himself again in meditation and mutely wishing for solitude. Instead, with his great irritation, a knock at the door announces a new, uninvited interruption in the quietness of the vanishing morning. But this time, with another of the startling reactions she is having today, Poppy instantly stops what she is doing and turns to look at him. He can't see her glittering eyes, but he can easily perceive the immense happiness in her voice.

"Guess, Severus!" she says, and her tone vibrates with a childish elation. "Guess who has come to visit you today!"

He stiffens in an astonished, angry silence. How can she tease him so tactlessly?

But immediately after, a new, unexpected, yet oh so well-known voice tears at his soul with its unmistakable Scottish accent.

"It won't be too difficult to understand, I hope…"

Severus feels his heartbeat accelerate in incredulous, painful joy.

"Minerva!" he whispers brokenly.


	11. Reasons to hope part 2

**A Matter of Will**  
_by Lady Memory_

_(simply Memory in SH and TPP)_

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer:**__I don't obviously own any one of the characters in this story, even if I would like to. (At least, with me they would be safer…)_

_Infinite thanks go to my fantastic beta __**Jynx67**__ for her patience and her many useful suggestions. _

_**Important**__: All my sincere thanks to those reading and reviewing my story. Your comments are deeply appreciated. _

_**MESSAGE 1**__: I am very late, I know. Please excuse me, but this chapter didn't want to cooperate and I had to rewrite it many times. And, speaking of writing… _

_**MESSAGE 2**__: A dear friend of mine, whose English is infinitely better than mine (she is an English major and a wonderful author) recently told me in disgust that present tense should be avoided in narration. Well, I'm greatly sorry. As you know, I'm Italian, and many Italian authors use the present to obtain a "special effect". In this chapter I have used also the past, but for my tale I just wanted to obtain that special feeling present tense always brings to me. Please excuse me if I made the story sound awkward. And thank you again for being so kind as to keep reading it in spite of its flaws._

**Chapter 10 (part 2) – Reasons to hope, reasons to despair… The Headmistress**

His emotions violently stirred by the familiar voice, his mind suddenly flooded by an overwhelming wave of memories, Severus raises his head and then lowers it again, struggling against the turbulence in his heart, trying to hold back his emotions, yet feeling the aching need to let them explode, liberating him. Never has he felt so happy and, at the same time, so distraught!

With an exultant glance at the beaming Poppy, Minerva eagerly crosses the room, her face brightened with a smile. But as soon as she draws closer, her joyful expression gradually changes into one of shock. Aghast at the sight of his frightfully inexpressive eyes, the old witch can't avoid a sob and exclaims in sorrow, "Oh, Severus! Will you ever forgive me for being so late in coming here?"

He feels a strangling knot in his throat. The emotions are too many and too strong for him to handle, and again, he fights the impossible pressure that makes his eyes burn in intolerable pain. Slowly, uncertainly, he stretches his hand out into the darkness to reach her.

Eyes luminous with tears, Minerva is ready to take his hand, looking at him with infinite tenderness. Then she does something she has never done before, something strange for a woman as controlled as she has always been, and so immensely shy about her personal feelings. Impulsively, she leans to embrace him, a quick, soft hug that leaves him even more unbalanced in his emotions.

"I am here to take you home, if you are wishing to come," she resolutely announces, wiping a fugitive tear trickling down on her cheek and recovering her composure. Severus jerks his head up, a desperate hope tightening his heart.

"Hogwarts, Severus," she explains with a trembling smile. "Albus wants you there," she continues, unaware of the shocking pang she is giving him with her words.

"A…Albus?" he finally succeeds in asking, his voice hoarse and uneven in the awesome mix of sensations inundating his soul.

Minerva seems to suddenly realize how agitated he is and, impulsively again, she sits next to him, placing a warm hand over his wrist. "I'm sorry, Severus. I think I'm rushing too much. Please let me explain." Her voice softens even more. "I am referring to Albus' portrait."

His face alters in anguish. Understanding his sorrow, she carefully weighs her words, trying to soothe him. "He has never spoken to anyone of us during these months… and we have been so desperately in need of his advice throughout the war! But yesterday evening, something strange happened. I was working at my desk – _his_ desk - when I suddenly heard my name. I turned to look at his portrait, and he was there, finally awake and smiling.

"'_Albus!'_ I cried, and he nodded to me in his usual, amused way… " – Minerva's voice breaks with emotion, then she determinedly resumes her story - "'_Oh, I am so happy!'_ I was beginning to tell him, but he gently interrupted me to say, '_I want him here_.'

"'_Who, Albus? Please tell me!'_ I asked, and he replied gravely, '_Severus. I want him here. Please do as I ask, Minerva_.' Then he closed his eyes again and didn't answer to any of my pleading appeals."

Suddenly, Minerva stops her inspired narration and looks anxiously at the man sitting near her. Severus has violently paled, clenching his hands spasmodically in the effort to control his emotions. He curls defensively, as if protecting himself from the inquiring looks of the two women around him.

Alarmed, a no more smiling Poppy is instantly at his side, asking softly, "Severus? Are you feeling well?" Shooting a worried glance to Minerva, she places a hand on his shoulder in a kind, reassuring gesture.

But Severus isn't listening. In the gloomy darkness of his brain, the words he has just heard are mutely scintillating, pervading his soul with a glorious sensation of triumph.

Yesterday! Minerva said _yesterday_! The same day, the same evening of his vision, a dream that – he understands it definitely now - was clearly intended to be a sign, a warning, a presage!

A warm feeling of affection replenishes his soul, soon followed by savage joy and ferocious satisfaction. So, he had always been right! Albus didn't lie to him, because the old wizard was the only one who sincerely cared for Severus… While all the others, apart from Poppy and Becky, have only performed a tragic little comedy.

With growing anger and humiliation, he considers the few other visits he has received till now… Hermione Granger? Come to thank him and disappeared immediately after. Cornelius Fudge? Merely worried about his career, and – Severus smiles vindictively at the thought – opportunely punished for that. Harry Potter? Extending an olive branch that concealed a mean intention…

But following this train of thoughts, a new alarming reflection unexpectedly rises to chill his bones, pervading his heart with an anguishing sensation. Has Albus' request been entrusted to the right person? After all, Severus' great mentor is now reduced to a talking picture hanging on a wall… Which ascendancy may he still have over the real people, the ones who currently rule the world according to their powerful, earthly passions? Can Minerva - an old, reserved woman - effectively be expected to successfully oppose Rufus Scrimgeour, and perhaps the whole Ministry? And if she fails, will Severus' hopes be frustrated forever?

A painful resentment begins to bubble in his chest against his old protector. Why didn't Albus respect the promise he made to Severus? Why didn't he leave the signed proof of Severus' loyalty in the place where it was supposed to stay? And, even more painfully: _why__did Albus never say a word before_, abandoning a faithful follower to a shameful, undeserved destiny? Could the sufferings of these months have been avoided?

A feeling of intense disappointment suddenly burns his soul, while these little drops of poison slowly transform his happiness into rage. And Dumbledore is not the only reason…

Minerva! Minerva, who should have been at his side, right from the day of his sightless awakening! Minerva, whom he always considered to be strong and honest and reliable! Minerva, who, year after year, had been able to see his devotion and commitment to the Order… Yet Minerva didn't practically lift a finger to help him! She didn't even take the trouble to visit him during these months; she just waited for Albus' instructions… And perhaps now it's too late…

A muffled, persistent sound gradually enters his thoughts: two gentle, worried voices are anxiously calling him. With immense effort, Severus slowly emerges from his suffocating pit. He takes a deep breath to repress his emotions and, finally, he can speak.

"Thank you very much for your visit, Minerva," he says with a voice that sounds surprisingly firm and sarcastic even to his ears. The two women involuntarily gasp at his tone and, darkly pleased for the reaction he has raised, he continues coldly. "How nice on your part! I have been told that you were appointed Headmistress of Hogwarts after the war, so I can easily imagine how busy you must be at this time of the year. I'm deeply moved by your so gracious compassion in such a demanding moment. And also, I'm truly grateful to Albus Dumbledore, who finally deigned to remember my insignificant existence after so many weeks of silence…"

He lets his words slowly sink in, grimly enjoying the uneasiness of his two listeners. Then he adds in a low, bitter tone, "However, let me advise Albus and you that in my current pleasant condition, I have definitely nothing to offer to any possible cause or person, either in this world… or in another. As you can see," and he intentionally accentuates the words, "the reward I'm receiving for my previous efforts is largely going to suffice me for the rest of my life."

Wound up in resentment, he resolutely crosses his arms, curling his lips in a cruel smile. How many terrible sufferings have been thrust upon him during the years? How many others will be thrust upon him in the future? His life has been totally squandered for the sake of the wizarding world… yet here he is, abandoned even by those who claimed to be his friends and protectors!

Well, today his bitterness has finally found a target! Let at least Minerva pay for her faults, and possibly also for the faults of the man who betrayed him, as there won't be any chance in this world to punish Albus for his false, deceiving promises!

With an arrogant movement, he raises his head again, as if inviting the woman to retort. But only silence answers his words and, unable to see what's happening, he retreats in uncertainty, feeling unpleasantly exposed.

Surprised and hurt at his reaction, Minerva is extremely saddened. After that first touching explosion - so beautiful, so incredible to witness - no more joy or warmth remains in his voice. Only arrogance and anger, matched by his exasperating inclination for sarcasm…

Next to her, Poppy is even more desolated, regretting the failure of what she had hoped to be a wonderful, unexpected joy. With the lost expression of a child in trouble, the Mediwitch raises her eyes to look pleadingly at her older friend, as if expecting her to make a miracle.

Crossing her arms in silent contemplation, Minerva tilts her head with a wondering frown. She has known this man since he was a boy, a disagreeable yet incredibly brilliant child, with a wounded soul and a terrible future waiting for him. In the long years they have successively passed together, sharing the tiresome, repetitive duties of teaching, she was pleasantly surprised to discover his outstanding capacities as a professor and a potion master. Yet, there has always been an unspoken obstacle between them, an indefinite barrier that they both have mutely agreed not to trespass. It is time perhaps to make this last wall finally crumble.

Absently, the old witch stares at Severus without really seeing him while her mind goes back in time, recalling the many previous events that have lead her to this room.

When Severus was found in the dungeons, atrociously hurt but alive, Minerva felt immensely bad. The man everybody considered a traitor and a murderer had finally been discharged and honoured as the hero he really was. But the woman that had known him since his childhood, and who could have helped him in his task, had decidedly failed to understand his reasons, refusing to see the truth behind his actions. Her mind had judged only the evidence, and the evidence had been totally against him.

Like Poppy before her – well, actually like everyone in the wizarding world, but this is a meagre consolation – Minerva was forced to face her worried conscience and admit that she had been desolately wrong. Having an intransigent but honest soul, the thought became quickly unbearable and, wishing to make amends, she decided to visit Severus as soon as she was informed that he had recovered from his coma.

But the personnel in St. Mungo's were strangely reticent, while men from the Ministry were continuously popping up, preventing any visit with a falsely cordial smile.

Then the Tribunal began its work. Death Eaters and members of the Order were insistently interrogated, going under inquest as if they'd shared the same misdeeds. The outraged Minerva was obviously amongst them, and bureaucracy froze her in a useless wait, while countless polite denials were the only answers she obtained to her pressing requests.

Finally, to complete her increasing tension, a mysterious event unpredictably added a sinister light to the whole matter. After the unanimous declarations released by Dumbledore's closest collaborators and friends, a squad of Aurors was immediately sent to Hogwarts to carefully investigate his office and private rooms. However, in spite of a methodical search, nobody could locate the documents that the late Headmaster should have left in his desk, especially the letter that was supposed to explain the many essential questions still needing to be answered. So, as a tragic, unexpected consequence, Severus' loyalty was questioned again.

Soon Rufus' strategy revealed its real goal. Trapped in the Tribunal's restrictions and obligations, worried by the news reported by Poppy, Minerva could only watch in growing indignation, until Severus' isolation was completely achieved and his contribution to the war was slowly but practically delivered to oblivion.

Disappointed and angry, the newly nominated Headmistress decided that it was time to take the situation into her hands. Trying to thwart the Minister's strategy, she began to work silently for the rescue of her younger colleague, keeping discreetly apart and carefully using her recent status and innumerable relationships to manoeuvre the most influential members of the wizarding society.

It had been a long and complicated journey, but just two days before, a secret message had finally rewarded her and her many weeks of thorough preparation. Her joy had been immense, and today she had reached St. Mungo's in growing impatience, hoping against hope…

And, miraculously, this time the doors had been open for her.

Painfully back in the present again, Minerva now lowers her head with a sigh of frustration, closing her eyes to avoid the anxious gaze of the worried Poppy. Just yesterday, Albus' words had left her with the conviction that the moment she had dreamed to witness had effectively come. But today, the plans so carefully crafted seem to have unexpectedly turned against her, changing her joy into a huge disappointment.

Again - as always, she must sadly admit - this complicated, unpredictable man has baffled her with his surprising reactions. Which new, terrible thoughts have arisen in his mind, to make him reply in such a cynical way?

Concerned, she looks again at Severus, watching the many different feelings rushing across his features like clouds on a stormy day. Gradually, as if called by her sadness, a buried memory develops in her mind.

_Another time, another place, another life. The final moment of the Triwizard Tournament, an occasion that should have remained as a dazzling event in the minds of its spectators, while on the contrary, it had dreadfully turned into the beginning of one of the most terrifying nightmares the wizarding world had ever experienced._

_That wicked night, following Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape, she entered a room where a wounded boy, exhausted and trembling, had just survived a deadly trap for the second time in a few hours. Harry Potter raised his head at their entrance, looking at his Professors and rescuers with paining intensity, and she felt an overwhelming tenderness tightening her heart._

"_Come along, Potter," she whispered, the thin line of her mouth twitching as though she was about to cry._

_And then, unexpectedly Dumbledore said "No!" sharply._

"_Dumbledore, he ought to – look at him – he's been through enough tonight –"_

"_He will stay, Minerva, because he needs to understand," replied Dumbledore curtly. "Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery. He needs to know who has put him through the ordeal he has suffered tonight, and why."_

Now, looking at this man so surprisingly arrogant even in his immense desperation, she feels as powerless as she felt that dreadful night, when Voldemort's power had resumed its evil march, gathering Harry and Severus in a merciless grip.

This morning, the same wicked force has come back in this room, imprinting Severus with a mark of suffering. She feels it so strongly, yet there is nothing she can do to soothe his pain, except offering him her understanding. An understanding that, however, he has already disdainfully refused.

A discouraging sensation of defeat enfolds the old witch, while her mind struggles against the urge to abandon this ungrateful young man to his gloomy destiny. Then she slowly considers his harsh, drained features, and a stinging compassion bitterly fills her soul. Suddenly, she feels exhausted. How many days wasted in misunderstanding! How many occasions to help him have just faded away! No wonder that the man before her is so ferociously hostile, challenging her as if she were an enemy. A whole life spent in deception, lying and disguising himself from the others, has confined him in the land of ambiguity, where nothing is defined and everything can become its opposite. Why should he trust the ones who never trusted him?

Yet the man before her is still a fighter, who tenaciously holds his ground and refuses to submit to his destiny. For a moment, Minerva savours the bitter pleasure of being here, struggling against his temper like she used to do in a happier time. And again, tenderness explodes inside her, filling her heart with a powerful emotion.

The long, worrying silence is making Severus more and more uncomfortable. The advantage he has set with his harsh, disdainful words is quickly fading away. Surprised and uneasy at not being answered, he turns his head, uncertain about his next move.

Feeling her heart accelerate, Minerva now speaks steadily, trying to restore his composure with her most reasonable tone. "I'm always delighted when I can be of help, Severus, so please set aside your scruples. My duties can easily wait while you, on the contrary, unfortunately cannot. Poppy has informed me about Rufus' visit and, above all, about his intentions."

"Oh, then I'm greatly reassured by your so timely arrival," Severus ironically answers, feeling a faint hope flicker in his chest yet repressing it immediately in cold determination. It's terribly painful to close his mind to hope and expectation, but, as everything in his life, it's a matter of will, only a matter of will, and this time he won't be caught unprepared!

So, displaying a sarcastic sneer, he goes on in his hateful tone, "However, as you previously stated, Scrimgeour has already declared his intentions. Being new in your role, perhaps you forgot that the school and its staff are depending on the Minister… and, regrettably, Scrimgeour is the only one available at the moment. What a delicate situation for a recently elected Headmistress, don't you agree, Minerva? I presume that, at this point, Albus' requests will hardly make a difference."

"Open that window, Poppy!" Minerva's voice explodes like a shot, and a startled Poppy, disconcerted by her harsh tone, rushes to obey this surprising command.

"Again, you forgot that I can't enjoy a sight," Severus begins to say in an altered voice; but she immediately cuts him off with unusual sharpness.

"I'm not so easily defeated, Severus," the old witch firmly replies: time to put an end to this useless verbal skirmish that is only paining them both. "Whatever you may think, there is always a reason for my actions. And -ah!- here it comes."

Even more disconcerted, Poppy turns her head just in time to see a magnificent grey owl fly in the room, his round yellow eyes fiercely scanning the people inside. With a commanding gesture, Minerva directs the bird to Severus, who flinches in surprise when the owl's clawed talons unexpectedly grab his forearm. Urging the man to pick up his message, the bird widens his eyes with a forceful hoot.

"Come on, Severus, take it. It's for you," Minerva orders him impatiently and, after a little hesitation, Severus obeys her command, his sneer slowly fading into uncertainty.

The dark wizard's fingers move awkwardly in a blind search for the message. As soon as he finds it, the great owl reacts with a pleased cry, leaving the room immediately. Suddenly darkened, Severus clenches his hand, crushing the little roll in frustration.

"What's the meaning of this, Minerva?" he asks in a low, bitter tone, "You know that I can't read it."

"Then I'll do it for you," she replies with a smile in her voice, noticing with a pang how his fingers are trembling. Burning in trepidation, a hopeful Poppy is immediately at her side.

"_To Professor Snape from the Ministry of Magic_… It's Rufus, Severus, exactly as I'd imagined," Minerva declares softly, beginning to read the text. _"It's my great pleasure to announce that we have finally found a convenient location for your retirement. Following the many pressing requests of the Board of Governors, we have decided to destine you to Hogwarts, where a…"_

With a frantic gasp, Poppy opens her mouth then closes it again, ducking under Minerva's immediate glance of warning. The message isn't absolutely saying what the Headmistress is announcing! The real words are terribly different, since the letter is effectively addressed to Minerva, and the most significant sentences seem to dance menacingly before Poppy's eyes in their explicit brutality.

"…_Forced by your intolerable stubbornness… incredulous at your so questionable behaviour… disappointed with the Board of Governors allowing this outrageous decision…"_

Going on with her quick improvisation, Minerva now represses a grim smile. Her strategy has succeeded, and Rufus has been put against a wall. She knows very well, however, that it is not Severus Snape who is the real target of the Minister's anger. This is the first reason of her victory and a hope for more victories to follow soon.

Finally understanding the efforts behind the result, Poppy looks at Minerva in naïve admiration, reverent before her courage. Then her eyes go back to the message in an increasingly horrified attraction.

"_To avoid further provocations… to keep peace and order… under your personal responsibility… we allow Severus Snape back to Hogwarts…"_

Instantly Poppy is indignant, and her indignation grows even more when she reaches the end of the paragraph.

"_However, no pension will be acknowledged to him and no magic permitted… his wand will be strictly kept under our control, while his financial needs will remain in total charge of the school that so insistently claimed him back…"_

Now Poppy is furious, and her worried gaze darts from Minerva to Severus, watching the many expressions chasing each other across his face, and trying to determine if he might have understood. But the young wizard is listening in desperate attention, absolutely unsuspecting the painful truth.

The invented message is soon declaimed, and a definitely worn out Minerva rolls it immediately with a tap of her wand, putting it safely in her sleeve. Then she stops to look at her former colleague, and her tired face relaxes in a warm expression.

Lips trembling, hands tightening uncontrollably again, Severus is finally, definitely ceding to emotions, his mind suddenly flooded by a multitude of disorderly thoughts. _Albus didn't betray him;__Minerva succeeded; Rufus has been defeated; something has really happened; he will leave the hospital; HE WILL GO TO HOGWARTS..._

Hogwarts! Thinking about it, his heart starts pounding wildly in hammering pulsations, while this blessed name resounds forcefully with every one of his frantic heartbeats. Hogwarts! His only home and refuge since the days of his troubled youth…

A burning tenderness suddenly fills his body, while powerful, awesome sensations melt one into another into a gigantic wave. And who knows what Albus Dumbledore might have in store for Severus when he is back at Hogwarts? Surely and finally answers to his questions, perhaps even solutions for his illness…

Totally upset by emotions, he tries to say something, tentatively extending his hand to reach Minerva. But his voice fails him and, overwhelmed by his sensations, he buries his face in his hands, in a gesture that has become his favourite shield against the world and, at the same time, a tacit admission of his frailty.

Still indignant for the message but exultant for this fabulous happy ending, Poppy can't repress an incredibly tender smile. Feeling the tears prickle at the corner of her eyes, she watches Severus Snape uselessly fight against the sweetest of emotions, the one she knows to be the longing of his heart: going home.

Exhausted and triumphant, Minerva gives a sad, meaningful smile to Poppy, mutely admonishing her to keep the secret. Then, letting the tears finally flow freely, she leans to embrace her broken colleague, whispering softly a promise, "See you soon at Hogwarts, Severus!"

_This is the end of the Hospital Chronicles. Now, Hogwarts and new adventures coming for the joy of those who will like to read them! See you in a month (hopefully)._


	12. A stormy goodbye

**A Matter of Will**

_by Lady Memory_

_(simply Memory in SH and TPP)_

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer:**__I don't obviously own any one of the recognizable characters in this story, even if I would like to. (At least, with me they would be safer…)_

_Infinite thanks go to __**Duj**__ for her kind revision and useful suggestions. I'm greatly honoured to have such a wonderful author helping me. _

_**MESSAGE 1**__: All my sincere thanks to those reading and reviewing my story. Your comments are deeply appreciated. This time, I would also like to add that I would greatly appreciate if you could leave me your impressions "in general". I like writing this story, and I like to share it with you all. But, as it must be a mutual pleasure, I cordially invite those who have comments, suggestions or wishes to share them with me. For instance, Mikee wrote in one of her reviews that she would have liked to see Harry again. Well, this wasn't planned to happen so quickly, but her wish gave me a new idea, so Harry is arriving much sooner than in my previous intentions…_

_**MESSAGE 2**__: I can imagine your reaction at this point... Always messages?!! How verbose those Italians are! Please, be patient, this is very rapid. As I don't think I'll be able to post a new chapter in a few days, I just want to send all my best wishes for a Happy Holiday Season and a joyful New Year to everyone reading. Auguri!_

**Chapter 11 - A stormy goodbye**

First day of September. The moment that seemed unachievable has finally come, and Severus is sitting in his favourite chair, tapping his fingers on the armrests while he anxiously waits for Poppy. Madam Pomfrey hasn't visited him yet, since today she is busy handing over her offices, but she is expected to arrive at any time to collect him, so that they can travel together to Hogwarts.

The hospital is usually quiet in these early hours of the morning, so Severus can easily perceive the many little noises that have constantly marked his days during these last, long weeks of solitude: people walking in the corridors, soft clangs of mysterious objects, low conversations, unexpected laughter and that sudden, unbalancing silence that seems to spread around so rapidly… But even silence has got a sound for him now, and he stops his fidgeting and listens even more carefully to that mute vibration echoing so painfully in his body…

The eager entrance of his second guardian abruptly dissolves these forceful sensations. With the warm smile that her voice conveys so nicely, Miss Ingham wishes him good day and begins her morning routine, tidying up the room and preparing new sheets for the bed. Listening to these familiar sounds, he wearily leans his head against the back of his chair and meditates. This night, there will presumably be somebody else in the space that has been his cell and kingdom for so many weeks. His past and present sufferings will soon become a memory, as today he is finally returning home.

He focuses on this concept and a wave of anxiety runs through his body. Severus is impatient to go, yet, at the same time, he feels strangely reluctant. Now that his few belongings have been packed and his excitement has slowly settled down, an acute sense of uneasiness is progressively tightening his heart. In his past days, he would fight this bittersweet oppression with a feverish activity. Now he can only take refuge in the darkness of his mind, gradually isolating and examining his confused feelings, one after the other.

Uncomfortable: this is the first sensation emerging. The new clothes he has been provided are irritatingly rigid, and their faint, unfamiliar scent reminds him unpleasantly of the evenings of his youth, in the Slytherin dormitory. The first night in the school, before going to bed, his richer roommates used to unpack their trunks and exhibit their shining new uniforms, showing their latest purchases at Diagon Alley or the goodbye gifts they had received from their parents. The following days were terribly frustrating and humiliating for him, as he was mercilessly exposed to the innumerable verbal jokes of his fellow students, until they finally got used to his second hand wardrobe and found a more rewarding diversion than taunting him.

Well, at least his sense of smell has indubitably improved, and this could be a small satisfaction. But stirred by these excruciating memories, many other worrisome thoughts are ready to follow. It has been Poppy who bought him new clothes and shoes, plus an assortment of personal effects that will surely prove useful in his new life at Hogwarts. But when she has presented him with her purchases, a strange mix of resentment and uneasiness has invaded his soul, immediately followed by shame and embarrassment at the thought that perhaps he has been the object of the hospital charity, or – even worse - that she has been compelled to spend her own money to dress him conveniently for his role.

In any case, at his immediate, agitated questions, Poppy has simply answered that everything is included in the sum granted by the Ministry, and that Minerva will be glad to solve all his doubts about his financial situation as soon as they meet again in the castle. (Even if, saying so, Poppy has blessed his sightless eyes for a moment. She has always been awfully bad at telling lies!)

This has sounded logical to him and even due, at the moment: who better than those two annoyingly protective women could help him manage these marginal but necessary little tasks? Of course, with no sight, he couldn't be expected to go shopping. Of course, the Ministry has granted him a pension. Of course, Minerva will let him know about his financial position, and then he will finally be able to take his decisions independently. But, rather than being encouraging, those considerations have slowly eroded his unsteady confidence, confirming to him that, whatever may happen, he will in any case depend on somebody else's help. No matter how famous, how rich or how important he might become, he will always have to ask for the rest of his existence.

Suddenly, he feels afraid and unprepared to face the world and its many tiresome challenges. Since his recovery, St. Mungo's has slowly enveloped him in a protective shell, imposing on him a tedious but reassuring routine. Yesterday, he was ready to leave this shelter. Today, the sudden vision of a place populated by a multitude of human beings, each one susceptible of unpredictable thoughts and reactions, produces a destabilizing, even intimidating effect on his spirit.

Naturally, he knows very well the majority of his former colleagues - and he wonders who has been chosen to teach Defence Against Dark Arts this year, and if a curse is still haunting that job, now that Voldemort has disappeared… Yet, how to deal with the men and the women that have met him in his previous life? How to understand what they are really feeling, how to react to suspicions and to whispers, how to prevent their annoying commiseration? Because he is perfectly aware that, after the first days in which he will probably be glorified as a hero, everything will soon return to the normal scheme, and then he will be regarded only as a decorative icon.

Again, this is bitterly obvious. After all, what else could he do without his sight? Discuss? Research? …Teach? His mind recoils violently from this last idea. Never ever again is he going to expose his unprotected self before a class!

Frustration grows intolerably strong in his soul. What use is it to have a home if he can't walk freely inside it? What kind of occupation is he going to feed his restless mind to feel alive? The idea that he won't be able to enjoy a Quidditch game – unless through somebody else's eyes - suddenly becomes unbearable. Will he be condemned to spend his future years segregated in his quarters?

Once more, all his many worries and doubts mercilessly come upon him in an uncontainable flood, while he relentlessly tightens and loosens his grip on the armrests, tormenting the wooden structure in the vain search for a solution. Again, rebelling violently against his fate, he forces his eyes in a terrible effort, commanding them with mute ferocity to rip the obscurity surrounding him.

Worried about his persistent silence, Becky stops her pacing and turns to look anxiously at him. Just a few days ago, Madam Pomfrey has announced her the splendid news, and the girl has felt incredibly glad. Later, analysing better her reactions, she has been surprised to realize how deeply she has ended up caring for this insufferable man, in spite of his difficult character.

Watching his eyebrows frown and smooth in the ceaseless stream of his thoughts, Becky remembers the tall, dark figure that had haunted her school days, terrorizing the students with his mere entrance in the classroom. How incredibly vulnerable he has become since then! Locked in his walls of darkness, her once impenetrable Professor has gradually loosened his contact with reality, losing control over the instinctive reactions of his body. As a result, his face, that once was ready to shape itself according to people and circumstances, is more and more turning out to be the naked mirror of his feelings.

Unaware of being the subject of her inquisitive look, Severus closes his eyes with a sigh of despair, and she wonders if perhaps he would prefer to be left alone. She knows very well how he hates to have company when he is in this brooding mood. So, coming to a decision, she gently announces, "Would you mind if I leave you for a moment, Professor? I'll be back in a few minutes."

Severus answers absently with a silent nod. He is still struggling against the panic that is so unexpectedly and forcefully invading his soul. Spaces and places in Hogwarts are so big, and every one of them conceals a risk for those who haven't got quick eyes and nimble feet. Doubts suddenly explode violently in his soul in an escalation of worried questions: the moving ladders… will they respect him? Will the magic in the castle be merciful with the unlucky man enclosed in its walls? Will Severus be able to manage his own walk, or will he need a constant escort to wander even in his private rooms?

Shaking her head in desolation, Becky heads for the door and opens it quietly. Unexpectedly, a chilling sensation ripples down her spine, making the girl instantly freeze in alarm. A strange, ethereal silence fills the room while Becky noiselessly turns to stare at Severus, unconsciously holding her breath. Pushed by her movement, the door closes slowly with a soft thud.

The low sound of the closing door takes Severus by surprise, awakening him from his torpor. Miss Ingham should have left as she announced before, so he must be alone, with no witnesses to his anguish. Suddenly, he can't resist anymore. A violent, desperate compulsion urges him to react and he abruptly rises, clenching his fists in determination.

Blackness welcomes him immediately in an almost physical hold and, for a moment, entranced as he was in his memories, he feels irremediably lost. Yet he has spent so many days in this room! Why is he so panicky now? Trying to coordinate his sensations, he stands still for a few seconds, sensing the space around him with his ears and nostrils, like a wild animal. Then he takes a first step.

Poppy has taught him to walk near the walls, touching them softly to have a guide. But this time he dares to cross the room, defying the frightening void before him. Hesitantly, he begins his walk, trying to resist the urge to extend his arms to feel the darkness and the many dangerous threats hidden in its yawning mouth. Every step is an unknown: with no tangible points of reference, he can only suppose his direction. Still, he arrogantly goes on, breathing slowly in concentration.

Step after step, his pacing becomes more and more confident; reassured, he is beginning to relax when, unexpectedly, something soft and tenacious seems to suddenly grab his foot, wrapping around his ankle. He tries to disentangle himself, but the more he retreats, the more the mysterious being tightens its hold and, before he can utter a cry, he irremediably looses his balance. Flashes of adrenaline fill his mind in a vivid sequence, while he experiences the terrifying sensation of falling helplessly, his fingers frantically searching the space, his eyes struggling in the desperate effort to catch the light… until two firm hands unexpectedly seize his arm and steady him again with a gentle grip.

He freezes and inhales sharply, trying to control his emotions. Then he sets his arm free with a violent tug, while he hisses dangerously, "So… you were here all along, Miss Ingham! Were you enjoying yourself?"

Wounded at his reaction, the girl who has saved him from an ignominious fall replies with an incredulous tone, "How can you think I'd do such a thing?"

But resentment, disappointment and offended pride are roaring in his chest. Hopeless! Vulnerable! And, which is worse, _ridiculous_! He struggles for a moment, then he lets his feelings free, howling furiously, "What the hell have you put on the floor?!"

"It's your travel bag, Professor!" The girl hurries to explain. "I left it here for Madam Pomfrey. I didn't mean to-"

"How thoughtful of you!" he cuts her off with that cruel sneer she has hoped to never see again. "And how professional! Didn't you think that perhaps I might need to move while you were happily dedicating yourself to some evidently more important duties?"

The girl pales in anguish. Yes, perhaps she has failed… But she's advised him she was leaving, as she has done so many times in the previous weeks. How could she make such a mistake? And why, oh! why, exactly today?

"You… you weren't supposed to walk!" she defensively replies.

"Of course! Why should I want to walk? Why should I even _think_ of walking? After all, I am an invalid! I suppose that I should be grateful you didn't tie me to my chair!" he replies bitterly. Then, raising his voice in a growing anger, "Next time I'll remember to ask for your gracious permission. But thankfully I'm leaving today, so in the future you'll have to find somebody else to play these little tricks on and amuse yourself!"

"You think so? Then I'm glad you won't be one of my patients any longer," she says indignantly.

"I never was one of your patients, Miss Ingham! Do you really think you are skilled enough to do something effective? Well, forget it! You are just an incompetent apprentice! You haven't even got the brain to imagine that I might need to move!" He is definitely shouting now, and she steps back, staring at him with trembling lips.

"Perhaps next time you should use a walking stick, Severus," the placid voice of Poppy Pomfrey unexpectedly says. Stunned, they both turn towards her. Poppy is standing under the frame of the door, arms folded across her chest and lips curled in her typical, patient smile. Silence falls for a moment then, at the same time, the wizard and the girl begin to speak agitatedly, each voice trying to dominate the other and to obtain Poppy's attention.

The old witch sighs in despair. Yes, thankfully, this is the last day in the hospital. Hopefully, Severus will recover his balance when he is again in the castle. But, surprisingly, Severus now stops his furious declaration, while his face alters in an amazed expression. His sudden silence disorients Miss Ingham, who awkwardly adds two or three hesitant words, before trailing off in confusion.

"_Ah_!" Severus exclaims softly in astonishment, realising what Poppy has just said. A stick! A wand! HIS wand! How could he forget that he has always had magic on his side? All those days confined in this room must have reduced him like a Muggle! So, raising his voice again, he anxiously asks the Mediwitch, "My wand, Poppy! Where is it? I can't leave without it!"

Then, sounding arrogant and anguished at the same time, he practically orders, "Go and fetch it, Poppy! I want it here immediately!"

For a moment, Poppy is wrong-footed. This shouldn't have happened here and now. She would have greatly preferred to let Minerva deal with these embarrassing questions. What can she tell him now? Oh well, perhaps it's better to tell him only a part of the truth, as they have always done till now.

Resolutely, she puts a hand on his shoulder and says firmly, with her best professional tone, "I'm sorry, Severus, but your wand will be kept here as a proof. It's full of Dark Magic, and the Healers hope it can help them to find a remedy for your eyes."

His face contracts in the desolated pout of a child deprived of a long awaited present. He stays silent, his breath coming out a little shakily. Reassuringly, Poppy adds gently, "I'm sure that Minerva will help you to get a new one, once you are back at Hogwarts."

His head lowers in defeat. Hogwarts. As always, Hogwarts. There is no escape. This is the only solution. He must go back to Hogwarts. There – he is sure – he will find all the answers that he needs.

Understanding that he is calming down, Poppy takes immediate advantage of the situation and announces briskly, "Time to go, Severus! Is everything ready?"

He looks questioningly at her and Poppy goes on imperturbably, smiling encouragingly to Miss Ingham who is wiping off a tear while trying to recover her composure. "Now, I'll let you decide. What would you prefer? We still have time to catch the Hogwarts Express. Or perhaps would you rather use the KnightBus?"

She reads indecision and apprehension on his features. She knows very well that he doesn't like either of these choices, but it's important that he is given at least the illusion of being allowed again to take a decision. So, she adds somewhat casually, "Of course, we can also travel by Floo. Minerva has opened a connection in her office today, specifically for the staff members. Though I can easily imagine that travelling by Floo may sound a bit disappointing to you, after so many days locked in this room! It is, of course, quicker, but it lacks the excitement of fresh air. In any case, it is easier for me. I've always travelled this way in the last years, but I will understand if you'd prefer a change."

The magical words to save his dignity have been said, and Severus is ready to use them for his purposes.

"I'll be glad to help you in your needs," he declares formally. "I'll enjoy fresh air visiting the Park in the next days."

"Very well! So, we can leave now, I suppose? Have you prepared everything as I asked you, Becky?"

The girl is still sniffling quietly, but her voice is firm when she answers, "It's all packed. I will ship everything to Hogwarts as you asked me."

"Good girl! I knew I could rely on you!" Poppy has a beaming smile, and the girl reddens immediately, shooting a nervous look to Severus and expecting a sarcastic comment. But he folds his arms, pressing his lips in a disdainful silence. After a quick glance to check the room for the last time, Poppy brushes a grey lock of hair out of her face with a weary gesture that reveals her inner exhaustion; then she says in simplicity, "Well, thank you for all your help, Becky. I'm sure you will become a wonderful Healer!" She embraces the girl who again is reddening, this time in emotion. "And don't forget to say hello to your grandpa! He is such a fascinating man!"

"I will, Madam Pomfrey," Becky replies in a low voice, and tears begin to flow unreservedly while she kisses the soft, rosy cheeks of the little old witch. Then, feeling extremely moved, the girl adds, "I'll miss you so much! I hope you'll have a great time at Hogwarts this year, now that… now that everything has ended," she finishes a bit awkwardly.

Severus is still menacingly silent, hating this moment and its syrupy emotions. The girl turns hesitantly to look at him. She is so desperately sad that these final instants have been ruined because of her clumsiness! In her naivety and gentleness, she feels as if her whole career has been indelibly stained by their unhappy discussion.

"I… I'm sorry for the unfortunate accident." She swallows. "May I wish you all the best, Professor?"

Severus curls his lips in an unpleasant smile. "I accept your apologies, Miss Ingham," he replies coldly. "Mostly because this will surely shorten this sugary goodbye. However, I sincerely hope you will improve your skills for the benefit of your future unfortunate patients."

Again, the girl hesitates. Understanding her sorrow, Poppy gives her a meaningful glance, then she casually declares, "As you said before, Becky, he is no longer one of your patients, now…"

The girl looks at her in surprise, and a hopeful expression appears on her face while she slowly considers him again. Then, with a swift movement, she embraces him tightly, whispering softly, "I'll miss you too, Professor!"

Taken by surprise, Severus stiffens and makes an outraged noise. Instantly, Becky lets him go and he growls, through gritted teeth, "I warn you, Miss Ingham-"

"Come on, lad!" Poppy interrupts him with an amused smile, "For once that a girl is hugging you, and this is a lovely one, you could make a…"

But she never ends her sentence, as something strange happens now. Shaken by a forceful shiver, Severus experiences a sudden, incredible event: vision forces his way through his stony eyes, as if the curtains that lock them forcefully have been unpredictably ripped by a violent lightning. For a vivid instant, he perceives the room, its walls and its furniture, and Madam Pomfrey looking at him with widened eyes. For an impossibly rapid moment, he can see her white uniform under the travel cloak, and her hat swaying slowly on her head. Then, blackness comes again to seal his pupils with a terribly burning stab.

He staggers and bends with a sharp gasp; then, unable to resist, he slumps on his knees, pushing the heels of his hands on his eyes to stop the flood of pain that is torturing him. Terrified, Becky looks in panic at the older witch. Immediately, Poppy moves the girl over and kneels before him, gently taking his face between her hands.

Severus opens his eyes again in frantic hope and gives a frightful moan. "Poppy…" he whispers, and his voice is uneven from the shock and the surprise and the cruel disappointment that has followed. "Poppy, help me! I could see you for a moment. I COULD SEE!"

His voice breaks in desperation. "Now it's all black again!!! Poppy, please help me! What's happening?"

"I don't know, Severus!" She sadly says, shaking her head in frustration. She gently touches his eyelids, feeling him tremble under her fingers. His eyes are still motionless and as hard as stones, and she sighs in regret.

Forgetting his pride in the horrible darkness that is inexorably wrapping him again, Severus leans his head against her warm palms with a choked sob. The old witch cups his face with infinite tenderness.

"I don't know what happened, Severus," she repeats softly. "Yet, I'm sure that something is changing. A powerful force has entered the game. Now we can only wait for a new sign. Let's hope it won't take too long."


	13. Welcome home!

**A Matter of Will**

_by Lady Memory_

_(simply Memory in SH and TPP)_

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer:**__I don't obviously own any one of the recognizable characters in this story, even if I would like to. (At least, with me they would be safer…)_

_Infinite thanks go to __**Duj**__ for her kind revision and useful suggestions. But, above all, for her patience! _

_**MESSAGE 1:**__ All my sincere thanks to those reading and reviewing. It's beautiful to travel with you._

_**MESSAGE 2**__: I'm awfully late, I know it. But… the good news is that next time I will post two chapters practically together, as they are strictly connected. I am currently "exploring" the second one and enjoying them both a lot. Next chapters will feature many other characters and interactions. Finally action, after all these gloomy meditations! Ed ora buon divertimento! (Hope you enjoy this one now!)_

**Chapter 12 - Welcome home!**

Cold. Silence. Wind, whistling wildly in the ears. Body floating weightlessly in a suspended time… and finally, solid ground under the feet again.

"Poppy! Severus!" Minerva's Scottish inflection unexpectedly breaks the obscurity, sounding extremely happy, "It's so wonderful to have you back at Hogwarts again!"

Severus automatically opens his eyelids, after having kept them unconsciously closed in the many whirls of the Floo. Strangely, it has been less nauseating and much easier than he thought. No points of reference, hence no problems of losing balance. Of course, he has had to travel in strict contact with Poppy, otherwise he wouldn't have known where exactly to land.

Once more, an impenetrable wall is surrounding him, and again he feels intensely frustrated. Nothing has changed after that astonishing moment in St. Mungo's. Darkness is still there hindering his sight, but a wave of vivid sensations reaches him immediately through his nostrils and, for a moment, he staggers under a violent stream of familiar scents. How incredibly perceptive his "secondary" senses have become! He inhales deeply, and the aromatic mix suddenly breaks down into different, precise ingredients. Fragrant tea and biscuits, delicate lavender perfume and fresh Marseille soap, scrunching parchments and pungent inks, plus the pleasant, characteristic smell of many old books bound in leather covers.

A powerful emotion enfolds him quietly. So many memories are ready to rise! He stands still and breathes slowly, unable to say a word, painfully enjoying this bittersweet sensation: he is back! He is back, and though an evil fate has irremediably changed his life, the world around him has remained the same. Tomorrow, professors and students will start again their usual routine and the castle will resound joyfully with their bustling activity, while paths and thoughts will cross incessantly as in a perfect mechanism. Only a little gear has definitely lost its movement - and perhaps its raison d'être - but this is just an irrelevant matter; after all, the little piece is nothing but a small part in the immense machinery that everyday moves hundreds of similar pieces. Why should anybody miss it? Would there be a reason to notice the difference?

Lost in his musings, Severus feels a gentle squeeze on his arm. Poppy is mutely transmitting him her support, and once more he is surprised to realize how extremely perceptive the old witch has become about his reactions.

Minerva's soft steps, muffled by the heavy carpets, are quickly approaching. Suddenly, he feels her warm hands on one of his.

"Severus! You look admirably well! I'm sure we all must be grateful to Poppy for that. Please sit down. Would you like a cup of tea?" Her hand is guiding him to his seat - a bit awkwardly, he notices in grim satisfaction. Like most people, Minerva is uncomfortable with his limitation and doesn't exactly know how to deal with it. So, for the moment she swings from an unusually maternal mood – coddling him as if he were a child – to an embarrassed, practical tone.

The two women exchange some pleasantries and try to involve him in the conversation, but his mind is busy analysing his feelings; so, he doesn't care to answer until a thoughtful pause interrupts the flowing of the words, and he hears his name pronounced in a slightly concerned tone.

"Severus?" Minerva kindly asks, "Perhaps would you like to rest? Your rooms have been prepared. The house elves have done their best to make them as comfortable as possible." Such concern and affection in her voice! Severus can't help but think that he had had to become a murderer and a fugitive to elicit this kind of attention, and he sighs in bitterness.

"Thank you, Minerva," he begins to say and, suddenly, he realizes what his senses have been silently suggesting to him.

"This is not the Headmaster's office!" he exclaims. "This is your room in Gryffindor Tower!"

"You are right, Severus!" Minerva exclaims, her eyebrows rising over her spectacles in surprise. "I'm impressed!"

She considers him with a thoughtful gaze then she goes on, "I was just going to tell you. At the moment, we are experiencing a very particular transition. As you know, I've been appointed Headmistress, and this has meant that I've had to leave my previous position. However, the Board of Governors hasn't decided yet who should replace me. None of our current Gryffindor colleagues seems to desire the honour of becoming Head of House. So, I'm forced to carry out these double duties, and this is why I'm still using this room. But there is also another difficulty: we are still missing our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Now, probably the best solution would be to hire someone that could possibly be my substitute _and_ our new teacher. This way we could also hope to definitely break the curse that haunts that role."

Minerva turns to explain confidentially to Poppy, "Probably you don't know that…" she hesitates before saying the name, "Lord Voldemort wanted that job for himself when he was young, so he cast a malignant spell to prevent any other teacher from lasting more than a year."

"Oh! So that's why there was that continual turnover! Well, it could be a good solution, if it works," Poppy agrees, practical as always. "And who should the lucky one be? Have you selected some names already?"

"Well, there are many possibilities, of course…" The two women are once more engaged in a friendly conversation, and again Severus loses himself in his thoughts until he is brusquely awakened by Minerva's joyful tone.

"Now, Severus, let's talk about you. There will be a big celebration tonight, and you are going to be our guest of honour. The house elves have outdone themselves for the banquet, and every member of the staff wants to be the first to congratulate you. Filius has even prepared some nice surprises for… but I don't want to spoil your evening! So, I'd suggest you take a little rest in your rooms and then-"

"No!" Severus brusquely answers, interrupting her enthusiastic chatter. "I want to speak with Albus first. That's the most important thing! I don't care for celebrations!"

The two women exchange a rapid glance. Poppy rolls her eyes with an imperceptible sigh, although not so imperceptible that he cannot hear it. His irritation starts rising. What the hell are these two damned women planning? Moving him from one prison to another?

"Sincerely, Severus, I think that tomorrow would be better," Minerva says in a conciliating tone. "Today there is so much to do, and you probably need some time to adjust to your rooms."

His anger is growing cold and furious, and his voice becomes harsh. "I'm not going to say it again, Minerva. I want to speak with Albus! He asked me here! How can you possibly-"

This time it is Poppy's quiet voice that firmly interrupts him.

"Severus," she says meaningly and he stops, visibly struggling against his temper then finally submitting in resentful obedience. Minerva looks at them in curiosity. She had never seen Severus Snape bow to anybody other than Dumbledore. What a strange balance of power! Who would ever think that little Poppy could possess such an inner strength?

Poppy puts a hand on his wrist, saying gently, "Severus, please let me explain to Minerva what just happened to you…" She turns to the Headmistress. "Before leaving the hospital, he experienced sight again, but unfortunately only for a brief moment."

Minerva gives a sharp gasp. Raising a hand to stop the questions that are ready to burst, Poppy imperturbably turns to the dark wizard again, "I don't know what you are expecting from Albus, Severus… After all, he is only a portrait now yet you seem to think that something special should happen…"

Oh! How to explain the sufferings, and the hopes, and the promises! Severus crosses his arms, withdrawing from her warm touch, and coldly says, "You yourself said that another force had entered the game, Poppy. I need to know, and Albus is the only one who can give me the answers."

"Do you really think so, Severus?" Poppy's eyes and voice are suddenly as piercing as Dumbledore's were, and Minerva follows this enigmatic exchange in fascination. "Then let me ask you: what if, instead, he doesn't?"

A painful expression alters his face and Severus stiffens in mute, angry denial. The old witch shakes her head in concern, then she gently adds, "I hope you are not gambling all your hopes in this wicked game, lad. I'd be more than happy to have you back entire again, but remember, in any case, you are Severus Snape and you must be proud of it, whatever should happen."

Severus has a sudden, shocked expression at these last words. His lips twitch and he lowers his head, while Poppy looks at him with a gentle frown. Then she wearily gets up, silencing the others with a determined declaration. "I'll ask Minerva to go with you, Severus. I'll be waiting and keeping my fingers crossed. May your hopes be not disappointed again."

Raising her hands once more to prevent a reaction, Poppy nods briefly to Minerva, who is helplessly staring at the scene and now chews her lower lip in indecision, looking like one of her first year's students. The Headmistress waits for the little witch to leave the room then she whispers, "As you wish, Severus. Let's go to Albus' office."

Slowly, he gets up, stretching his hand out with a resentful expression. He must ask for help, exactly as he has feared…

Her little, warm hand joins his in mute encouragement.

--------------------------------

Minerva and Severus walk silently along the corridors. She has advised him that they are going to take the "long way", using secret passages to avoid possible encounters with other staff members. From time to time, she looks at him, not daring to say a word, and feeling strangely moved. His fingers clasp her hand with an even pressure. Clearly, he is used to being guided in this way and she feels waves of compassion and affection run down her spine. He looks so incredibly vulnerable! Never has she imagined herself walking side by side with this dark man and being able to watch him so closely, staring directly at his face and counting every little wrinkle on his forehead, every little twitch of his eyelids. She tries to regulate her pace to make his journey easier. Luckily, there are no stairs in their way at the moment, but she unconsciously tightens her grip.

He startles and says bitterly, "Do you pity me, Minerva?" She gasps in painful surprise and he goes on, defensive and ironical, "Do tell me, please. It's such a joy to see how compassionate you have all become with me… now!"

Sadness, desolation, remorse and shame are ready to come out, one after the other, while Minerva fumbles for words. Then she admits in defeat, "You have succeeded even too well in your acting, Severus, and we have been too ready to condemn you. But please believe me: we all feel indebted to you, and personally, I'll be happy to do whatever is in my power to make amends."

Minerva has stopped her walk and waits anxiously. Her hand is still holding his, and her grip is firm, sincere as she has always been.

"Do you trust me, Severus?" she asks timidly.

He sighs deeply. Many possible answers come immediately to his lips and each one of them has a different shade of bitterness. Again he feels an acute sense of exclusion. How can he fit back into this world? "What" is he going to represent inside it? A perpetual memory? A suggestive symbol?

"I trust you, of course," he finally declares with a cold voice, closing himself once more within his impenetrable walls. Minerva has a disappointed, hurt expression but she says nothing, and they both resume their walking. Soon they reach the gargoyle guarding the moving staircase.

"Lemon sherbet," she whispers and Severus flinches at these familiar words, but he doesn't comment. In a few seconds, they enter the Headmaster's office.

----------------------

A joyful murmur that becomes immediately a cheerful chorus welcomes him inside. The portraits of the many past Headmasters and Headmistresses are evidently happily surprised at his sight. Dilys Derwent calls in her high-pitched tone, so typical of the hard-of-hearing old people, "Albus! The boy's back! Didn't you see? The boy's back!!!"

Phineas Nigellus bursts out in an overexcited proud declaration, "This is the proof of Slytherin's worth, isn't it, Albus? You have to admit it!" while an assortment of male and feminine voices join in, mixing greetings and congratulations in a merry confusion.

Finally, an expectant silence falls and a well-known old voice affectionately exclaims, "Severus! My dear, dear boy! Thank you very much, Minerva, for bringing him back to where he belongs."

Minerva feels Severus's hand tremble under her fingers, while he gives a little, gasping sound. In the meantime, a renewed explosion of joy follows Albus's words, until he says, gently but firmly, "Thank you to everybody. Now, please, this is a private conversation."

"Of course, of course…" many disappointed voices answer and there is a sound of doors closing, footsteps vanishing slowly and some gentle or thunderous goodbye, according to the personality of the owner of the voice. Hearing the many different, even exaggerated noises, Severus understands that the portraits are using a special courtesy to him, respecting his limitation. The last one to leave is apparently Phineas, who warns his colleague with a menacing tone, "Try not to play any of your tricks, Albus. Remember, I can enter your picture now, if I want."

"I know, I know, Phineas…" Dumbledore says impatiently, then amiably again, "Minerva, would you please…"

"Certainly, Albus," she nods obediently, preparing to leave, when she notices that Dumbledore is looking at her with a strangely insistent stare. She opens her eyes in shock, understanding that he is asking her to stay there secretly. Silently, she pleads with him, but he shakes his head in determination. She casts him a furious gaze and angrily goes to the door, pretending to go out.

Relieved, a paternal smile shining on his face, the old wizard turns to look at Severus. The younger wizard is sitting in front of the desk, as he used to do in their past days, and his face displays an uncharacteristically hesitant expression.

"Severus! It's so beautiful to see you again!"

"I wish I could say the same, Albus," Severus replies bravely, but his voice is uneven. How incredibly moving it is to hear that accent again, to be surrounded once more by this so powerful tenderness! The younger wizard now burns in feverish impatience, while Dumbledore considers him slowly, saying in a compassionate voice, "So, the obscure days have effectively come upon you."

"As you told me, Albus… But I hope…I mean, I'm sure you will help me as you promised." Severus is frustrated by his limitation – how much he would like to see Dumbledore's expression! - and ashamed to be forced to ask… but, surely, this is the last time, and hope flutters in his chest like a bird anxious to fly.

"My dear boy!" Albus now sounds sincerely shocked and disappointed. "You know I'd do the impossible to help you, but what you require from me this time is frankly ' the' impossible."

"But you said…" A terrible sensation of imminent disaster slowly dims the little fire blazing inside Severus. "In the Dungeons, when we met the Dark Lord… you told me that I would find happiness again, if I… listened to… my heart." These last words sound so stupidly sentimental now! Yet, this is exactly what he has done, and he feels unreasonably defrauded.

Now Albus is grave. "Unfortunately, Severus, I'm not the same one you met in the Dungeons. I'm just the trace of the living being that I was. Therefore, I can only remember what I said and did till that last unpleasant night on the Astronomy tower."

"Then, how can you quote what you told me about the obscure days to come?" And his thoughts whirl wildly: _Albus is pretending. He must be pretending. Surely, this is a sort of proof to test him again_.

But the reply is a cold shower.

"Because Harry told me what happened."

A stab would have been less painful!

"You… you have met Potter here? Before me?!"

The younger wizard is incredulous, definitely outraged, and Albus hastens to explain, "He came to visit me just after the victory. He was simply distraught about what had happened and felt terribly sorry for you."

But Severus doesn't listen to these last words, clearly intended to soothe him. All he can see in his mind is his detested rival, always winning, always rewarded, always favoured.

"You mean you spoke to the damned brat while you left me wondering for all these months?! Not a sign, not a hope, not even a word!!!"

He is shouting now, and Albus raises his hands in a pacifying gesture, forgetting for a moment that his interlocutor can't see. "Severus, you must understand. The boy was alone, all his friends had been wounded and you had vanished into coma. So, he went here in search of support. After all, he didn't choose his destiny."

"While I did, did I? In the Dungeons, you even forgave Wormtail, but there can't be any mercy for me, there can't be any absolution! Evidently my entire life must be a punishment for the faults I have committed!!!"

This last exclamation seems to bring Severus back to a disdainful coldness. "I understand," he says, recovering his composure with a terrible effort, his breath difficult in anger, a burning pain tightening his chest. "Of course, I am not worthy. Probably I never was… But surely the boy obtained his reward: Potter, the blessed hero, the saviour of our world!"

"I trust Harry as I trust you," Albus states simply.

"I can imagine! Of course, he is Harry Potter!" Severus replies with an immediate venomous reaction, while a hateful voice echoes in his mind.

"_Professor Dumbledore trusted you always… even the same night of his death."_

Now he understands why the boy said these words during his visit at the hospital. But, rather than being a comfort, the memory is cruelly tearing his soul; therefore he continues accusingly, in a bitter tone, "In any case, why should I be surprised? After all, you have always protected him, whatever he did… haven't you?"

"Severus!" Dumbledore's tone is saddened and hard at the same time now. "Please think, before saying something you may regret later. Is he the only one I've protected?"

Severus replies in indignation. "You think so? Then what about your letter, the evidence that you promised to leave for me, that should have explained the truth? You owed me at least this compensation! Instead, it was never found, and I will have your blood on my hands till the end of time for the murder that YOU forced me to commit."

"Severus!" Albus shakes his head again in sorrow, and the younger wizard flinches, clenching his fists forcefully at hearing his name pronounced with such a poignant accent.

"My dear boy, the parchment is here, in my desk. You can touch it with your hands, if you want."

"Then why could nobody find it?" A renewed hope is swelling his chest and he can hardly breathe in expectation. _Of course! Albus never lied to him… just tested him in that annoyingly irritating way he always had_.

But again, the answer is more than terrifying.

"Because you yourself sealed the spell, Severus, and nobody else can break the charm. Don't you remember?"

Albus has a sad, weary expression looking at Severus' shocked face, and continues softly, "I was casting the spell on the parchment before writing it, and you were sitting in front of me as you are now. I was pronouncing the final words when you added your own ones…"

Memories come in a sudden flow, and Severus slowly murmurs in fascinated horror, like following a vision "_May the charm resist and last, may the sufferings not be vain, may this parchment be protected till the right time's back again_."

The younger wizard raises two imploring, sightless eyes at the invisible man on the wall. "That day you were planning your murder! You were explaining the details to me and I was worried about the consequences… But I have accomplished your request! Why isn't the spell working? Why has the document not been released?"

"Don't you understand it, my son?" Albus replies with an immense sadness. "You said the words, you locked the spell. Nobody else can see or open the parchment now, not even you, until the right time has come. And this will depend on the spell only. It's up to the charm to decide."

Again Severus is lost in a frantic enquiry. "Then why didn't you tell the Minister about this? Scrimgeour said that-"

"I know perfectly well what Rufus did!" Dumbledore's voice sounds suddenly harsh. "I have watched Minerva working for you during all these months. But do you really think that Rufus would listen to ME? You seem to forget that I am only a portrait, and portraits are not allowed to testify, even in the Wizarding world. Also, there were no other images of me which I could use… the Minister carefully avoided having such an intrusive guest in his rooms, and this picture is too heavy to be carried around."

"So, your convenience is the only reason why you left me alone in the hospital? Do you expect me to be grateful?" Anger is ready to rise again.

"You weren't alone. There was Poppy with you, and I'm sure that she has been far more useful than a portrait in a decorative frame."

Severus' lips curl in resentment while he coldly says, "Perhaps you could have sent a message, at least to Poppy. She might have needed help…"

"Poppy doesn't need any help. She follows her heart, as she has always done, and her heart has never been wrong."

Rage explodes freely at this point. "So, when can I expect liberation? WHEN? Have I not been tortured enough? What else must I wait for? And for how long?!"

"I don't know, my son." Albus' voice is very tender now. "But, in the Dungeons, my ghost gave you something to hope for."

"But he didn't say WHEN!" There is accusation in his tone, the crumbling of his hopes, darkness extending triumphantly its inexorable hands on his life. "I'm blind, Albus! I cannot live like this!"

"And I'm dead, which I believe is even worse, and your companions have been terribly wounded too. Evil exacted a dreadful toll on all of us."

"Albus…" Struggling to stay calm, Severus makes his last attempt. "Today, before leaving the hospital, I could see again for a moment."

The man in the picture has a sudden spark in his eyes, but the younger wizard can't notice it, so he goes on in a desperate hope, trying to persuade his old protector by offering the name of his best ally, the one that had warned him about this meeting and that was - oh! - so terribly right. "Poppy said that a new force has entered the game. Perhaps you would be so kind as to enlighten us with your opinion?"

Dumbledore rubs his face in anguish, perceiving the abyss waiting beyond these words. Then he whispers, "I'm sorry, Severus. I'm not allowed to foretell events anymore. In this matter, I am as blind as you are. I can only repeat what my ghost told you in the Dungeons: 'Follow your heart, as the answers you need are enclosed there'. But, if I may add something more, I will say that, strange as it may seem, your current condition will help you in ways that you can't even suppose now."

Doctor Ingham's kind words resound for a moment in Severus' mind and quickly vanish, immediately substituted by an acute pain. He feels his heart becoming as hard as a stone. No answers, no hopes, only a faint possibility that something unknown may happen in an eventual future! Bitterness fills him with an immense acrid stream. Of course… What is a single life worth in the balance of these powerful cosmic powers? What is HIS life worth against the life of the Chosen One?

A cold resentment wipes out all the warm feelings that were settling inside his soul. It's a matter of will, and his will now refuses to submit. The younger wizard stiffens in wounded pride, feeling his eyes burn in intolerable torment as they always do when he is in this perverse mood.

"I see," Severus says ironically, trying to hurt his old protector as much as he has been hurt. "Thank you very much, Albus." Then, in a sarcastic parody of his mentor' words, "You helped me in a way that you can't even suppose, today."

The man in the picture reacts in painful surprise.

"Severus… Severus, please…"

These words! The last words he heard from the 'real' Albus, and pronounced with that identical intonation! Trust, affection, hope and prayer, linked together to touch his soul. Pain is so violent and unexpected that it shoves Severus literally back in his seat. Then, resentment comes again in cold waves.

Angry and aloof at the same time, he slowly shakes his head in denial, refusing to answer Dumbledore's pleading appeal. Then, unable to leave without the help of a guide, he crosses his arms on the table and determinedly lays his head on them, cutting out the world around him.

The gallery of portraits is gradually repopulating the walls and whispers and comments begin to intertwine from the various sides of the room. Higher than the others, Severus can hear Phineas's harsh voice accusing Albus, "So, this is a fine sample of your Gryffindor justice! You old goat! What did you say to the boy? Why does he look so desperate?"

A cruel satisfaction fills the younger wizard's heart, a feeling that anyway disappears soon, leaving an aching void behind it. He waits while voices rise and lower, hoping to hear Albus apologise or at least say something… But the old wizard keeps a saddened silence and that enjoyable sensation of revenge slowly transforms itself into a burning regret.

Unexpectedly, a warm hand is on Severus' shoulder and remains there, offering him the comfort he was unconsciously seeking. Minerva is standing behind him, and her eyes are full of tears while she alternatively looks at the mute, desolate Albus, then at the dark, sullen Severus. She doesn't even dare to speak, as her voice could betray her feelings and let Severus understand that she has witnessed the whole scene.

A few moments of hesitation, then with a sudden decision, she turns herself into a cat. Her warm, furry head rubs against Severus' cheek with a soft purring sound.

Surprised, the man raises his face, extending his hand to touch hesitantly the little animal. For a long moment, many different emotions seem to fight in his heart, altering his expression. Then, his features harden again, his hands fall on his lap and he says coldly, "There is nothing more to be said here. Let's go somewhere else, Minerva."


	14. Surprises

**A Matter of Will**

_by Lady Memory_

_(simply Memory in SH and TPP)_

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't obviously own any one of the recognizable characters in this story, even if I would like to. (At least, with me they would be safer…)_

_Infinite thanks go to __**Duj**__ for her kind revision, useful suggestions and infinite patience. Thank you also to __**Lidiladilom**__ for her preview (something changed after your comments!) _

_All my sincere thanks to those reading and reviewing. _

_I'm greatly sorry for the delay, but real life has exigencies that we cannot rule. More messages at the end. :)_

**Chapter 13 - Surprises **

**Poppy Pomfrey**

It's late afternoon and Severus is in his rooms, alone with his thoughts. Sitting in his favourite armchair his favourite resting-place in his teaching days, he expands his senses to perceive the objects hidden in the darkness. Supposedly everything has remained as it was: at least this is what Erlin, his house elf, has declared with a lot of smiles, apologies, little laughter and all those annoying babbles house elves usually utter, thinking to please their masters.

Yet the room "feels" different, and he is enraged. Indeed, he has moved from one prison to another! In the next days, he will have to learn again where everything is, drawing a mental map of his possessions. But while his room has a limited space, the castle is so big! He will never be able to walk inside it without assistance. The thought itself is exhausting, and he relives the frustrating sensation of helplessness he experienced while walking with Minerva.

Minerva… Her actions have been a surprise to him, yet he hasn't asked her anything, disillusioned as he is after the meeting. She has evidently listened to his conversation. But why? She is too discreet to do such a thing. It must have been Albus… Albus!! How could he… Why did he… A thousand unresolved questions still burn in his heart, and rage is suffocating. He buries his face in his hands, while once more he feels a horrible pain diffusing from his eyes to his brain. It's intolerably violent, and he has a sob of rebellion and desperation.

The door opens quietly and Poppy enters with a tired smile. "It's me!" she announces, then she stops to look at him in alarm. A worried frown immediately appears on her features. She's been informed about the negative results of the meeting with Albus. So far the situation seems to be only worsening, and she wonders if it has been a good idea for him to come back to Hogwarts.

"You are late!" he accuses, clenching his fists to resist the throbbing in his brain. If only he could cry and dissolve pain into tears!

"I know, Severus," she answers in a conciliating tone, placing her hands on his temples. "You won't believe it, but I've been asked to visit a portrait."

"I always thought that pictures needed a restorer, not a Mediwitch," he snaps through gritted teeth, realising that she means Albus. Tremors are running painfully down his spine now, and he bursts out in anger, "Did you change career lately?"

"My task is to cure and to give hope to those who suffer," she replies softly. "And I believe that even a portrait may deserve my help, if he has tears in his eyes."

"HE DOESN'T DESERVE YOU!" he exclaims furiously, feeling irrationally hurt, and pain seems to respond to his emotions, making him writhe helplessly on his chair.

"Let me help you, Severus…" she says gently, putting her hands on his shoulders. He stiffens and tries to recoil, then finally relaxes under her touch: slowly, his shudders calm down and pain lessens to a tolerable level. His emotions once more under control, Severus now concentrates again on her words. Why did Albus call Poppy? What did he tell her? Did they speak about him? He craves to know more, yet he doesn't dare ask, as he understands that she is not going to indulge him about this subject.

Perceiving his unspoken questions, Poppy has a sad expression. Being summoned was a joyful thrill, but the meeting with Albus has left her greatly puzzled. Even if undoubtedly saddened by the negative results of his encounter with Severus, the great wizard hasn't had much to offer except than grateful thanks for her commitment, plus some enigmatic words about helping Severus to "look in his heart". Although Dumbledore seemed very anxious about this last point, he hasn't explained anything else to her. So Poppy is still experiencing a confused, somewhat frustrated reaction, divided between pity and irritation: Albus's evident vagueness has disconcerted the little witch, who has always considered the old Headmaster one of the most wise and powerful wizards of all ages.

Therefore, she refrains from making any comment. Instead, she considers her patient with a clinical eye, analysing what has just happened. Severus needs a physical contact to balance his emotions. Many blind people need that too, to overcome the desolating void surrounding them and to restore their sense of perspective. Yet, there seems to be a different factor in his crisis, something peculiar… but she will think about this in the future: now it's time to make him react, to reset his priorities.

"Tomorrow we will begin practising our exercises again," she announces. "In a few days, you'll be able to walk in this room as if you have your eyes back. Then we will find something to keep you busy." A quiet confidence brightens her voice. She tilts her head to look down at his face darkened in hostility. "Now, let's dress and go to the banquet."

He lets her unbutton his jacket, totally inert, and Poppy presses her lips in exasperation. No, she is not going to tolerate this apathy. He's perfectly able to dress by himself and she is here to help, not to serve! And no, she won't let him wallow in this useless melancholy, especially now that a new life is hopefully awaiting him just a few rooms away. The little witch resolutely puts a clean shirt in his hands.

"Come on, Severus. Get prepared. The others are waiting to meet you. And they are all very excited."

Passivity is immediately substituted by irritation.

"It's a useless wait! I'll have dinner in my rooms!" he exclaims angrily. Poppy sighs. Finally a reaction, even if not precisely the one she'd hoped.

"You will go, Severus Snape!" she declares firmly. "And I won't hear another word about this!"

His hands contract suddenly, squeezing the soft fabric between his fingers. Arms crossed, Poppy waits in silence. It's a matter of will, as it is always with him, but each time is a challenge. Who is going to win? They both stand still, while a tense silence fills the room. Then, ferociously, he raises his head and begins to dress, curling his lips in a resentful moue.

**The staff members**

The meeting room is full of chatter, excited whispers and nervous laughter. Many little crowds are moving here and there, talking animatedly, and fragments of conversation intersect disjointedly in the air.

"I have always thought he was different from what he looked…" explains Professor Sinistra, while Professor Vector adds, "His role in the battle was amazing…" and Professor Sprout thoughtfully considers, "Surely his controversial reputation helped him in his disguise…"

But this tremulously happy chorus is unexpectedly silenced by Hooch's stern tone stating sceptically, "In any case, he murdered Dumbledore… And the Ministry is still enquiring. I believe Minerva made a great mistake readmitting him here."

A more conciliating voice says softly, "Well, perhaps she wasn't wrong offering him a house… After all, he was one of us, and now he is in straitened circumstances, from what I have heard. But inviting him to the banquet, to the Sorting Ceremony, while suspicion is still hanging on his head… Really, I don't know…"

On the other side of the door, waiting for Poppy and Severus, Minerva listens silently to these last discomforting comments. She didn't ask all her colleagues for their agreement before Severus' arrival, because the few she consulted – the persons she really trusted – gave her unconditional support. But perhaps she has been too quick to impose him on the school. Her real purpose was to take Severus away from the hospital as soon as possible. Yet, now that he is physically here, well… the situation is much more complicated than she thought.

She enters the room, stopping under the frame of the door, and chatter ceases immediately, while everybody turns to look expectantly at her. How many apparently cheerful expressions on those faces! But what are the real feelings inside? She sighs inwardly, lowering her head to hide her emotions.

Footsteps sound in the corridor. Severus is arriving, guided by Poppy. His appearance destabilizes Minerva for a moment. He looks so vulnerable, even pathetic. Did she make a mistake, bringing him there? Feeling terribly afraid for him, she braces herself and announces to the people waiting in the room, "I'm happy to tell you that Severus Snape is back amongst us. Please welcome him as the friend we thought to have lost and that, luckily, is here again. But, above all, let us honour the hero who saved the world from the Dark Lord's threat."

A loud applause follows her words and people look curiously at Severus, who has stopped and stands silent under the frame of the door near the Headmistress, arms crossed in an instinctive gesture of defence.

"Thank you, Minerva," he replies soberly, "I'm very glad to be at Hogwarts again."

This seems to be the signal for an explosion of feelings. His colleagues gather around him and each one seems to be willing to be the first to congratulate. The winner of this weird contest is obviously Horace Slughorn. Eagerly taking Severus' arm, he declares proudly, "Ah, Severus, good boy! I'm so happy to have you here again! This is a memorable day for Slytherin House! I have been always sure of your loyalty. I know you too well!"

He turns to look triumphantly at the others and goes on imperturbably, "He's always been one of my favourite pupils! He and Lily Evans, Harry's mother! Lily and Severus grew up together, they have always been friends. And then Harry became his student, and then Harry came with Albus and asked me to teach again! Ah, what a touching memory!"

He stops to breath, beaming in exultation, delighted to have established such a strong connection between him and the two most controversial heroes of the wizarding world. And having thus reconfirmed also his rights, he remains patronizingly near Severus, keeping a firm grip on his arm and sharing with him the compliments and the greetings, shining in reflected glory. Severus has a bitter smile. Horace hasn't changed a bit in his naïve ambition, but his loud laughter and animated comments are at least encouraging.

And his second eager interlocutor hasn't changed a bit either. With her well-known penchant for tragedy, Sybill Trelawney declaims, an octave higher than necessary, "I have always known it! I had foreseen it! Potter can tell you, because he was with me on that wicked hour! I saw the Tower and the Dark Man in my cards, the same night Dumbledore was killed!"

She seems to suddenly realise what she has just said. Incredibly, she blushes, then, lowering her voice to her usual mystical tone, she concludes dramatically, "I've kept my Inner Eye on you all the time. I was sure you would be victorious!"

After a moment of panic, the other professors join the chorus, greeting him or expressing their enthusiastic feelings – too enthusiastic perhaps? – in their different ways. He smiles coldly and replies in detached courtesy to everyone, but nobody seems to notice the distance behind his words. After all, he was always a difficult man to deal with, wasn't he? So, Severus stands still, an inaccessible rock in a storming sea, surrounded by waves of emotions that uselessly try to reach him while he watches them clash and fade in remoteness.

**Filius Flitwick**

Slowly, the merry confusion decreases and witches and wizards begin to leave. The Great Hall and the banquet – plus a number of new students – are waiting for them. Only little Professor Flitwick still hasn't greeted Severus but waits patiently in a corner, an amused smile on his lips, until Minerva invites him with a nod. The room has practically emptied when he reaches his much taller and darker colleague.

"Severus, it's Filius! Happy to see you again!" he exclaims cordially, then he stretches himself on the tips of his toes and whispers conspiratorially, "You owe me an explanation, you know? Last time we met, you knocked me down very rudely!"

Severus has a confused expression. For the very first time in the evening, he feels a real emotion, while a painful memory suddenly unlocks in his mind. Unaware of the reaction raised, the little wizard chuckles merrily.

"Don't worry!" he declares immediately. "I know why you hit me! And I'm grateful, believe me, very grateful for what you did! So, I have prepared something very special to show you my gratitude. I hope you will accept these little presents from an old friend."

Although he had been told to expect a surprise, Severus is wrong-footed. After the many unpleasant events of the day, he had forgotten it and now he can't find the proper words to answer.

"Well, I… I don't really know…" he begins uncertainly.

"No, no, no!" Flitwick stops him. "Please don't talk. Just listen. I have prepared a very particular set for the banquet and for all the other meals you will enjoy from now on. Look at these!"

"Oh, dear!" he gasps, immediately realising his mistake; it's so easy to forget that Severus can't see! "I didn't want…I meant… well, you know what I meant… Self-filling goblets, for instance! Touch them!"

With a big grin, feeling on a safer ground, Flitwick puts a heavy glass in Severus' hand. "Once you have used one, it keeps filling with the chosen drink till you desire. And now, enchanted forks and knives: they help you find the food and chop it, until the dish is empty."

His enthusiasm is infectious, and Severus finds himself enjoying the surprises like a child, waiting for more, hoping for more.

"Good work, Filius!" Poppy exclaims, happy to see Severus smile, and Flitwick blushes with pleasure, while Minerva nods in appreciation.

"I have many other helpful tricks!" The little wizard adds proudly, like a merchant advertising his wares. "If you want, you can try them all during the banquet. I hope you will find them useful."

His voice now lowers to an excited whisper. "But this, this is the thing I dare to hope you will appreciate most."

He pauses and everybody understands that his great moment has come.

"The enchanted walking stick!" he announces triumphantly, producing a black cane with a flick of his wand. "It guides you to every place you want… provided that you name it."

With a ceremonious bow, Flitwick places the cane in Severus' hands. The dark wizard can't help a broken gasp at the incredible sensation of physically holding the possible key of his autonomy, and the others exchange glances of joy. Flitwick hurries to explain. "Please be advised that it is not perfected. I will have to study your needs to make it better. Anyway, I'll take it with me now. We will experiment with it tomorrow… or maybe after the banquet."

A wave of his wand and the stick suddenly disappears. He rubs his hands with a satisfied chuckle, looking around with pride. Then he happily says, "Now what else to add? Oh yes! Miss Granger! You wanted to speak with Professor Snape, if I remember right?"

**Hermione Granger**

"Yes, thank you very much, Professor Flitwick," a familiar voice says gently. Astonished, Severus turns his head in surprise at this unexpected presence.

"You are very welcome, Miss Granger" replies Flitwick cordially. The little wizard is positively sparkling with energy.

"We are going to the banquet now, Severus!" he exclaims, gently pushing Minerva to the door and winking encouragingly to the girl. "Please don't make us wait too long!"

"Ah, come on, there is still time…" Minerva reproaches him with a smile, asking immediately after, "Coming with us, Poppy?"

"Of course!" The Mediwitch is ready to grasp the message and join the others. They exit in an exaggerated exchange of noisy comments, and Severus understands that he has been left alone with the girl on purpose. He shifts uncomfortably. More surprises to come, and perhaps unpleasant ones this time? The room becomes embarrassingly silent. Then the girl comes closer.

"I'm so glad you are here again, Professor," Hermione says simply, in that slightly blurred enunciation he remembers so well from their encounter in St. Mungo's.

"I'm not a Professor anymore," he answers brusquely.

"You'll always be a Professor to me," she replies with a smile, and he perceives her sincere joy. Again, he is unbalanced. Her voice is inexorably bringing him back in time, and a bittersweet sensation of regret fills his chest. Oh, if the past could be changed!

"May I help you to the Great Hall while we talk, sir?" She invites him kindly. "There are so many things I would like to ask and 'How are you?' is only the first."

His answer is a cautious silence, and she asks immediately, with a hint of disillusion, "Perhaps you would prefer me to call Madam Pomfrey?"

His reluctance crumbles under her sincere kindness. Suddenly, he decides that there are a lot of things that he would like to ask too. And this could be the right time, without those two meddling old ladies around. He inclines his head toward her voice.

"You are jumping too fast to conclusions, Miss Granger. I'll be honoured to have you as my guide."

He extends his hand into the darkness and feels a gentle emotion when his fingers meet hers.

**News**

The girl and the man walk side by side along the corridors. It's a long way to the Great Hall, and Hermione tries to adapt to his pace as best she can. It is difficult, because his legs are much longer, and she is afraid to be too slow for him: but, at the same time, she knows that he is walking in an unknown space and with an inexpert guide, so she is forced to be careful.

She takes this opportunity to scrutinise him with complete objectivity. It's a weird sensation, as no student has ever been allowed to examine him so closely without being immediately cornered by his merciless eyes. And while she looks at him in silence, memories start flowing. Once he was her teacher, the mentor who guided her in safety through the mysterious paths of the magical arts. Now he obediently follows her steps, holding her hand in total trust. Like Minerva before her, Hermione feels an immense compassion, and a trembling hope lights in her heart. There is a question that he alone can answer, and she is anxiously expecting the right moment to pose it…

But Severus also has a pressing question: he remembers very well how Miss Granger was upset when they previously met in the hospital! The horrible effects of the Dark Lord's curse had disfigured her features so badly that she couldn't even bear the idea of being seen. Yet, today she seemed perfectly at ease with the others.

Of course, there could be many explanations, so he needs to ask. Could she possibly have found a cure? He sincerely hopes so, because this could mean there is hope for him too. Therefore, he ventures cautiously, "It seems that you have happily solved your problems since the last time we've met."

"Well, not exactly," she admits, becoming grave immediately. "Professor McGonagall helped me with an apposite Transfiguration spell. I need to perform it each time I go out of my room or in the lab."

Disappointment mixes with surprise, and he repeats in wonder, "The lab?"

She nods absently. "Yes, I'm actually assisting Professor Slughorn in preparing potions."

"I can imagine…" Severus snorts. "How could Horace miss such an opportunity? Having famous Miss Granger as his assistant! The lucky man!"

She feels hurt for a moment. But his words sound rather ironical than derisive, so, after a second, she has a mischievous smile and answers him teasingly, "Well, surely you know him better than I do… After all, you were one of his favourite pupils."

Severus darkens immediately. The connection Slughorn made with Lily Evans hurt him too much, so he hastens to change the subject, interested as he is in knowing the fate of his other unfortunate companions.

"And what about Ronald Weasley? Is he feeling better?"

Her voice saddens. "Unfortunately, there is no spell or potion that may treat him at the moment, and he suffers so much! This is why I asked if I could assist Professor Slughorn. I hoped he could help me in my research for a remedy. Although, I sincerely believe that I will have to find something by myself. Of course, if it had been YOU in his place, I would have been practically certain of success. Poor Ron!"

He is embarrassed and, not knowing exactly how to handle her declaration, he switches to safer ground. "So, is he still in the hospital?"

She sighs. "No, his parents took him home. In a way, he is lucky. Unlike me, he was born to a wizard family, so they understand the situation. But poor Molly is completely distraught, and Mr. Weasley… well, he is no longer the cheerful man we used to know…"

A meditative pause follows, then, with a little hesitation, she adds, "But Remus… I mean Professor Lupin, is here. Minerva invited him, as he is still seriously ill and he hasn't got a decent place to stay."

_Of course_, Severus thinks bitterly. _They are 'Minerva' and 'Remus', while he is only and always 'Professor Snape'. And nobody seems to notice that he too has lost everything. _Once again, he experiences a hurtful sensation of exclusion and reacts immediately in resentment.

"It seems that Hogwarts has become an external ward of St. Mungo's," he declares sarcastically, interrupting her comments about Lupin's conditions.

Hermione feels suddenly angry. Shouldn't he be compassionate, this exasperating man, given that they are all undergoing the same horrid destiny? Instead, he sounds unreasonably jealous… For a moment, she considers giving him a sharp reply, but then she looks again at his face and her determination fades. She can't afford to make him angry… If she wants to have a chance to ask that so very important question, she must keep him in a collaborative attitude. Therefore, she continues giving him details about the banquet, hoping to reset his mood.

"However, you will surely meet Mr. Weasley tonight; he is going to attend the banquet on Ron's behalf, as Minerva will talk about the battle. Of course, it would be beautiful if everybody could be present… But sadly, Ron and Professor Lupin will be the only ones missing."

Severus freezes, realising what the girl has just said. Suddenly, he remembers what Minerva has announced so proudly, and a wave of revulsion washes over him. He tugs her hand violently, forcing her to come closer, while he asks agitatedly, "The banquet will be a commemoration of the battle?! But this would means that… that …"

The girl sees his face alter in the outraged expression she remembers so well. She understands immediately, and she sighs in despair. Her efforts have failed miserably. He won't listen to her any longer today.

"Yes, Professor," she whispers. "Harry too will be here this evening."

--

_**Final messages to my kind readers:**_

"_Erlin", the name of the house-elf at the beginning, wasn't a necessary detail, but it's my thankful tribute to __**Misundersnape**__, who is writing a beautiful Snape story and who betaed part of this story. It's only a little surprise, but I hope you like it!_

_The two following chapters have already been written. At least, this time I should be able to concentrate three months of waiting in a few weeks. See you soon!_


	15. Those who don't forget

**A Matter of Will**

_by Lady Memory_

_(simply Memory in SH and TPP)_

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't obviously own any one of the recognizable characters in this story, even if I would like to. _

_As always, heartfelt thanks to __**Duj**__ for her kind revision, useful suggestions and infinite patience, and to __**Lidiladilom**__ for her preview._

_All my sincere thanks to those reading and reviewing. I wish I could know your names._

_All my best wishes to **Misundersnape**. You see, I have tried to be as quick as possible... __**Mikee** and **Deep85**, I hope you enjoy. _

**Chapter 14 - Those who don't forget**

Many rooms and corridors away, a shocked voice is asking Severus's same question in a more articulate way.

"You mean you've invited Harry? At the banquet?! Tonight?!"

"What's wrong, Poppy?" Minerva asks in alarm. "We will celebrate the victory and take the opportunity to explain the truth to everybody, once and for all, as the true protagonists will be there. What better occasion?"

"You don't understand, Minerva!" Poppy says worriedly. "Severus… well, you know it, he could never accept the boy… There was a terrible argument between them at the hospital. Severus chased Harry out of his room… and now the situation has even worsened."

"But Severus saved his life! I mean, they both saved each other in the Dungeons! He can't hate Harry as much as you say!"

"Well, that didn't count for Severus, it seems. I am afraid he will react awfully to this news."

"Don't you think you are a bit overprotective, Poppy? You treat him as if he was still a child! "

The little Mediwitch blushes in indignation. She's become nasty and inflexible to successfully manage Snape's terrible tempers and force him to live again. How can Minerva, who on the contrary is literally oozing compassion, accuse her of being patronizing?

In spite of her usual immense energy, Poppy feels an overwhelming weariness. The weight of those long, exhausting weeks is on her shoulders, and suddenly, she finds herself sniffling, vainly trying to control her tears.

Minerva is shocked. She didn't think her words could be so hurtful. Gently, she apologises, "I'm sorry, Poppy. I didn't mean…

Struggling against the bitterness that is invading her heart, Poppy wipes angrily her eyes. "Don't worry about me, Minerva. I'm fine."

**The banquet**

Severus walks along the corridor in blind fury. Alarmed at the cold anger emanating from his person, Hermione tugs forcefully at his hand, forcing him to stop.

"Please, Professor!" she warns him. "We are entering the Great Hall and there are students coming. Please!" she begs, tightening her grip. Unconsciously, he tightens his fingers too.

"Where is Poppy?" he whispers hoarsely. "I want to go back to my rooms!"

"No, Severus!" Poppy seems to have instantly materialized near them. "Thank you, dear!" She gently says to Hermione, raising her brows in a silent warning.

Hermione backs, looking at the Mediwitch in curiosity. How will Madam Pomfrey handle the situation? The girl needs to learn how to deal with that stubborn man, as she intends to speak with him again as soon as possible.

"This is a damned trap! I refuse to sit near Potter!" Severus bursts out angrily, and Poppy replies firmly, "You won't. I'll see that he sits at the opposite end of the table, while I'll stay near you, with… with Miss Granger."

"You can't keep me here!" he roars furiously.

Poppy firmly tightens her hands around his, stopping his words. If Hogwarts has to be his new home, then he must accept its other inhabitants and be acknowledged by them. Otherwise, his leaving the hospital would be useless. She knows that it's a tough trial for her patient, yet she feels that the sooner, the better. Severus is much stronger than he thinks, and she will be constantly at his side to help him.

Suddenly, the dark wizard hears the increasing buzz of many voices speaking, the noise of hundreds of feet merrily stomping the floor and instinctively turns his head towards those familiar sounds. She gently squeezes his arm in a mute question and finally, reluctantly, he sighs and nods in acceptance.

Followed by a puzzled Hermione who has watched the scene in concern, Poppy guides him to his seat. He is sullenly following her steps, when the woman abruptly stops and says with a sad voice, "Arthur! Minerva told me you would come tonight! How's the boy? How's Molly?"

Arthur Weasley's voice is unusually flat. "Glad to see you, Poppy. Molly is fine, thank you. She's beginning to recover from… from our loss. And the boy… well, I would like to say that he is improving." His tone becomes bitter. "But at least, with his mother's care and his family around, his sufferings are more bearable than in the hospital."

The man seems to hesitate for a moment. "Severus," he then greets, and his voice vibrates with a strange intonation.

The younger wizard feels suddenly uneasy. "Arthur," he replies warily.

Weasley's words become surprisingly incisive. "I came here also to see you. It seems that you tried to help my son… at least, this is what Harry and Hermione said." Again, Arthur pauses intentionally. " I suppose I owe you an acknowledgement for your try."

Bitterness has an incredible acrid taste this night. So, Scrimgeour was telling the truth. Severus has not been believed. There are still suspicions… and surely no sympathy. He struggles against a wave of anger, then pride makes him respond in short, halting sentences.

"You owe me nothing. Your son was unlucky. He moved while I cast the Protego. We all paid an awful price for victory."

"Yes…" Arthur replies, his voice again strangely vibrating. "But somebody had to pay it double."

Poppy looks at him in pain. Charlie Weasley's death has devastated his family and the sight of young Ronald's sufferings is an unceasing torture. She shakes her head in compassion at the two men, both wounded in different but terrible ways.

The Hall is slowly filling, and students are noisily gathering around the tables of their Houses. There is a big excitement in the air, comments mixing in disorder, sounds of seats being dragged, dishes and glasses tinkling, and joyful bursts of laughter. Although embittered by Mr. Weasley's reactions, Severus is intensely savouring the familiar sounds of his previous life, and an acute nostalgia burns inside him.

"Better go now, Severus." Poppy tactfully intervenes, breaking that painful pause. "Talk with you later, Arthur. I'm so sorry for the boy. I'll come to visit Molly as soon as I can."

"She will be happy… she's always alone…" Arthur whispers blankly, disappearing into his torment again.

Again, Severus feels an immense rage inside, while Poppy pushes him determinedly. Why must he participate in this farce? Why can't he simply retreat to his rooms and forget this world and his destiny for a night? A sudden roar echoes powerfully in the room, "Harry Potter! There is Harry Potter!"

The children are shouting, laughing, calling Potter's name in a merry chaos. Severus stops and raises his eyes, searching the darkness. Sensations are too strong and his face alters visibly in emotion. Poppy places her hand on his wrist.

"Remember, you are Severus Snape and you must be proud of it," she says with kind firmness.

"Enough with this nonsense!!" he retorts ferociously. "Let me go away."

"You will stay!" she replies resolutely, tightening her grip on his wrist while she scans the room. Few of her other colleagues have reached their places in the happy confusion: some are talking, some are reining in the overexcited children, but the majority have gathered around Harry, congratulating him with big smiles. On the contrary, the boy looks very serious: from time to time, he glances questioningly at Severus with regretful eyes from the opposite side of the room, in the middle of a cheerful crowd. Hagrid – the only teacher that still hasn't met Severus - waves his enormous hand enthusiastically at Poppy, while he contemplates Harry with adoring eyes. Many of the other adults however seem puzzled. Why don't the two heroes talk to each other? Minerva too has a regretful expression, watching the little group isolated at the other end of the table.

Poppy sighs and stares pensively at the man sitting angrily between her and Hermione Granger. He has crossed his arms on the table, curling his lips in anger. Flitwick's ingenious little tools lie scattered around him, ready to be used. Poppy looks again at Harry in sorrow.

"_Whatever may happen, I am ready_!" she thinks fiercely, pouring water in one of Severus' new goblets and thus activating its magical self-refilling power.

Finally everybody is seated, Severus and Harry carefully separated by the whole length of the table. The children have by now noticed the dark wizard and comments are whispered in low voices while a hesitant, frightened file of first year students enters the room. This year, Flitwick will take Minerva's role as Deputy and place the Sorting Hat on those little heads. Despite her anguish, Poppy feels a joyful thrill. Life is beginning to follow its normal cycle again.

The Ceremony is performed quickly. The old wizard has a paternal smile. He too seems moved by those little ones who luckily won't know terror and anguish, or will forget them soon. Severus raises his head each times he hears the Hat call "Slytherin!" His students, the ones who were entrusted to him! What did they do while he was wandering in the paths of horror? Lost in the darkness, he relives the moment he was Sorted. What would have happened if he hadn't been a Slytherin? What if he had been Sorted into Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw… or perhaps even into Gryffindor, with Potter's father and his hateful friends? What if he had been admitted in their circle? Would his future have changed? Poppy and Hermione watch him carefully and their gazes intertwine for a moment. Poppy easily detects the girl's compassion. The Sorting Hat sings its song, but she can't hear a word, lost as she is in consideration.

Minerva rises. Moved and somewhat embarrassed, she welcomes her students with particular warmth, as usual giving explanations and details to the newly arrived. Then the feared moment finally arrives.

"This evening is a special celebration for everyone of us," she announces, and Poppy sees Severus shift uncomfortably. "As you surely know, the battle against evil has been won and we begin a new year finally free of doubts and fear. Of those to whom we owe this immense change, some have sacrificed their lives and will be greatly honoured in the times to come. But happily, this evening we have with us the two persons who more than any others contributed to our salvation. Please hail Harry Potter, who till last year was a student amongst other students..." Her last words go completely lost, confused in a joyful chorus of applauses, shouts and even whistles. "Of course, he doesn't need an introduction. You all know him very well," she adds with a faint smile. After all, Harry is a Gryffindor and she is proud for the glory of her House.

Minerva gives a quick glance around. Her heart races in fear while she prepares for the second part of her announcement. The table of Slytherins is her greatest concern. Some of the older students are missing, a terrible sign of their unhappy endings in the battle or in the reformatories appositely created for them after the victory… The general reaction is cold; few Slytherins have the courage to applaud the hero who has condemned so many of their parents and relatives to an earthly hell, even if a concerned Slughorn does his best to show and stimulate exultation.

The Headmistress braces herself. "And now there is another one whom the majority of you know very well, because he was a teacher amongst other teachers, but who devoted a great part of his time in the most dangerous of the activities: being a –"

Suddenly Minerva feels a terrible pang. She can't use, she won't use the word "spy" for Severus! So she hesitates for a moment, and the children look at her in surprise. She swallows, smiles at her public and continues firmly.

"He was a secret agent and risked his life every day to save ours. He faced the Dark Lord himself and deceived his evil plans. And finally, he helped Harry to survive the Dark Lord's fury in the Dungeons. Tragically, he lost his sight during this last challenge, which makes his commitment even more memorable. Everybody hail Severus Snape, the second of our glorious saviours."

Severus is literally shaking. Poppy doesn't dare touch him, but panic tightens her heart. This is the moment of truth. How will the students react? A sudden, tense silence seems to wrap the Hall. Then Harry Potter gets up, nods gravely in acknowledgement and begins to applaud. An immense ovation follows his example: one after the other, professors and children join him, until all the tables are a deafening chorus of claps and shouts… Even the Slytherins, and Poppy shakes her head in incredulous joy, finally allowing herself a tear.

The banquet begins, and Minerva does her best to fit in the heads of her students the pieces of the puzzle that may still be missing. More information is given when stomachs are full and children's attention is therefore more focussed. She talks also about the other doomed heroes: Ronald Weasley and the terrible curse that hit him, Hermione Granger and her new position as an assistant for Potions, and Lupin and his misfortunes. Each name is enthusiastically greeted. This evening, every little thing is an excuse to be happy and noisy, and the children are ready to take even the smallest opportunity to enjoy themselves.

Finally, the trial is over and Poppy allows herself a weary smile, watching Severus struggle with his new tools. Although the experiment could be deemed satisfactory, some of the devices have taken him by surprise with unpredictable reactions. It could have been an amusing moment in another occasion, but he has definitely been frustrated. _He must be really exhausted_, she thinks maternally. So many things have happened today, so many emotions! She can't believe that only that morning they were still in the hospital. A whole life seems to have passed in between! But she is immensely happy. Finally, Severus is home.

Now the Hall is emptying. The prefects are calling the first years, while older students begin to divide automatically in little groups. Harry has joined his Gryffindor friends; amongst them is Ginny Weasley, who has decided to complete her last year at Hogwarts. Finally relaxing, Poppy lazily wonders if it may be better for Severus to sleep in the infirmary this first night and what excuse she might use to convince him. Rocked by the fading noises of the voices, her eyes blink in sleepiness until an urgent call awakens her abruptly.

"Madam Pomfrey! Madam Pomfrey! Please! A first year has injured himself on the ladders!"

She opens her eyes in alarm and sees a seventh year Slytherin student, whose name she knows very well because of his disgraceful family's story. The boy has a hesitant expression. Behind him, two other Slytherins are waiting with his same uncertain appearance.

"Professor Sprout asks if you could please come to check him."

Then the boy looks anxiously at Severus. "May… may we speak with Professor Snape, please?" he asks, biting his lower lip and raising two prayerful eyes. Feeling suddenly jubilant, Poppy turns to look at Severus. The wizard has already heard and his brows furrow, while he asks in surprise, "Gerald Avery?"

The boy shines with joy at being recognized. "It's me, Professor, and there are also Derek Mulciber and David Macnair. We… we would like to congratulate you."

"Very well, gentlemen," Poppy smiles at seeing a controlled pleasure diffusing across Severus's face. "Then please stay with Professor Snape. I'll be back in few minutes."

Happy for his emotion, she hurries to see what happened to the unfortunate lad, and so she doesn't notice the cunning, evil expression that is slowly transforming the boys' features.

**Those who don't forgive**

The Hall is practically empty. Children have left with their guides and the few remaining Professors have slowly reached the door, pleasantly engaged in conversation. Even Hermione has left to join Harry, Ginny and Mr. Weasley. Nobody watches, nobody cares… Like wild predators, the boys surround Severus, concealing him from other possible viewers.

"We have prepared a surprise for you, Professor!" Avery says with a smile. "It's only a little thing, but we hope you will like it."

Severus feels unexpectedly moved. He has been wondering for the whole dinner how his Slytherins were reacting, but proud as he is, he didn't want to ask Poppy or Miss Granger. He is still enjoying this comforting sensation when he feels a hand on his arm, and a voice coldly says, "Yes, the House of Slytherin is very happy to have you here again!"

The fingers tighten painfully on his arm, and he stiffens in sudden alarm. This cannot be a mistake. The grip is strengthening with the clear purpose of being hurtful. Waves of anxiety run through his body. What is happening? And, above all, why?

"I suppose you have an explanation for this unacceptable behaviour!" He reacts indignantly, jerking his arm free.

"Oh, not only one, but many, Professor!" Young Avery answers, baring his teeth in a horrible grin. "My uncle has been killed, and my father has been condemned to Azkaban because of you. I swore to make you pay for your treachery."

A second voice interposes with low fury. "Traitor! How could you believe we would forget? How could you believe we could forgive? You betrayed your House and your vows. We trusted you while you were preparing us a trap!"

A third voice joins the accusations, "Coward! The House of Slytherin rejects you! Your name and memory will be delivered to dishonour and forever despised by the many of us who fought loyally!"

Suddenly, an almost imperceptible vibration stops these heated words. A supernatural presence has entered the room, filling the space with a deathly power, and the boys seem to retreat in awe. Heart beating madly, emotions clashing frantically in his soul, Severus slowly rises on his feet, forcing himself to face this invisible enemy.

"Who are you?" he whispers.

"Severus…" The new voice is a chilling hiss and Severus impulsively backs, only to be blocked by the wall behind him. He leans against it, waiting in anguish. Alone… Blind… Helpless…

"Severus!" The voice is now cruelly amused. "Did you really think I could be defeated? Did you really think my power and my knowledge could be destroyed by your pathetic efforts?"

"No…" Severus gasps. "You can't be back… I saw you die in the Dungeons…"

"And now you can't see anymore, Severus… But this is only the first part of my revenge, since I can punish or redeem as I wish. Look at me now!"

A sudden stab burns his eyes. In a flash, Severus recognises the dreadful face that still haunts his dreams in his restless nights: horrid gashes for nostrils, red glowing reptilian eyes and thin, inhuman lips curled in a scornful smile.

"No! _NO_!" he cries, raising his arms to protect himself and to cancel the vision. It's not fear, it's absolute horror, but the boys before him cannot perceive the difference and laugh derisively.

Words of pure hate continue to flow implacably from the ghostly creature. "I'll make you pay for your betrayal, Severus. My triumph and glory have only been delayed…"

Back in obscurity again, Severus feels pride, courage and determination blaze fiercely in his soul with renewed strength at these words.

"No!" he exclaims. "Not while I live!"

"You pitiful wreck!" The voice warns him coldly. "How dare you even think to defy me?"

With sudden violence, the ghostly being brutally pins the man against the wall, halting his breath for a long, painful moment. Then, as unexpectedly as before, the grip loosens and Severus slumps on his knees, his hands around his hurting throat, his mouth gasping in desperate search of air.

Slowly fading into nothingness, the voice now mockingly greets, "Goodbye, my friend. Enjoy your days before we meet again…" And, with a last, cruel whisper, "He is yours, my children…"

Almost simultaneously, the boys raise their wands exclaiming, "_Crucio_!"

Liquid fire burns in his veins and Severus writhes helplessly on the floor. In the haze of pain that is clouding his mind, he nevertheless hears voices and footsteps hurriedly getting closer. There are new presences around him, but this time they are friendly ones. Harry and Hermione are unexpectedly at his side, followed by Ginny and by a panting Arthur Weasley.

"_Stupefy_!" The four yell in unison, and the Slytherins fall on the ground in a shuddering tangle. Hermione kneels immediately near Severus, raising terrified eyes at her friends, and Mr. Weasley involuntarily steps back. The spell that was keeping her features under control has vanished under the violent shock. So, the creature that holds Severus so carefully, helping him overcome the violent spasms that follow the Cruciato Curse, has such a repugnant appearance that Mr. Weasley must conceal a gasp of horror. Nevertheless, Ginny doesn't show any emotive reaction but briefly says, "I'll go fetch Madam Pomfrey." And she hurries out of the room.

Wand still raised in alert, Harry casts a quick glance at the man lying at his feet. Hermione has hastily placed her jacket under Severus's head, to protect him from colliding against the hard floor in his convulsions. The boy turns his eyes away uneasily. He is not going to speak with his former Professor, not at this moment: he too would hate to be seen so helpless. Arthur Weasley, instead, is staring at the Slytherins with a concerned expression. Feeble moans and pleas escape their lips, and, in spite of the paralysing spell, the students seem to be experiencing a more and more excruciating pain.

"The magic has been too strong, Harry!" Arthur exclaims in alarm. The boy has a disgusted frown, but he lowers his wand, looking uncertainly at the older man, who is more and more worried.

The Slytherins writhe once more in agony and Arthur murmurs slowly, "This is too harsh a punishment, even if they deserve it…"

Growing suddenly determined, the man raises his wand.

"_Obliviate_!" he commands, and the boys instantly relax in unconsciousness.

"No!" Severus cries, twitching in spasms. Now it will be impossible to extract their memories and understand their reasons. But lost in his personal and painful considerations, Arthur stares blankly at him, unaware of the frightful truth.

"They were clearly in search of revenge, Severus," he comments. "Let's not be uselessly cruel." Bitterness and contempt mix in his words while he adds, "The Aurors will take care of your Slytherins. I'll call them immediately."

"No…" Severus repeats wearily. The younger wizard is uselessly struggling against the spasms that block his jaws. He must warn his companions of the danger, the presence that he still feels growling around them and that is hidden somewhere in the dark. But pain is too strong to let him speak properly... Desperate, feeling his energies vanishing in a dark void, Severus instinctively searches for the only person that can possibly help him: exactly the one that he has so harshly dismissed in the hospital and hoped to never meet again in his life.

"Potter…" he stammers, struggling to control his lips; Harry stiffens at the sound of his name, and turns his head in surprise.

"Potter!" Severus practically implores with his last forces. It's a matter of will, but this time he must force his will to obey. His vision… he must share it with the boy!

Hermione raises two begging eyes. Disconcerted, Harry hesitates for a moment then kneels uncertainly at her side.

"Your… hand…" Severus gasps, blindly searching the darkness. Even more confused, Harry stretches out his arm and Severus grabs it forcefully, struggling to lift his shaking fingers and reach the scar on the boy's forehead. As soon as Severus touches it, a sudden stream of energy seems to explode and pass burningly through the skin, linking man and boy in an amazing connection. In a few seconds, images and sensations are exchanged, and Harry sways under the shock of such unexpected revelation.

Suddenly, there is a big confusion in the room. Madam Pomfrey has arrived, and Minerva is immediately after her, lips tightened in fury. Exhausted, with a last, faint convulsion, Severus fades mercifully into oblivion.


	16. Snapshots of a day

**Chapter 15 –** **A Matter of Will**

by Lady Memory

(simply Memory in SH and TPP)

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer**__: I don't obviously own any one of the recognizable characters in this story, even if I would like to._

_As always, heartfelt thanks to my wonderful betas __**Duj**__ and __**DementedLeaf**__ for their kind revision, useful suggestions and infinite patience, and to __**Lidiladilom**__ for her comments. All my sincere thanks to those reading and reviewing. _

**Chapter 15 – Snapshots of a day**

**A devastating dilemma**

Severus Snape is walking cautiously along the corridors, lost in unpleasant considerations. After the terrible night of the banquet, his life has changed again, becoming decidedly worse.

The minutes following the attack are still a black hole in his mind, as he had mercifully faded into unconsciousness immediately after. When he had woken up in the infirmary, he had found Poppy and Minerva patiently waiting around his bed. Unsurprisingly, Severus' first anxious questions were about his students. Were they unharmed? Had they said something? Had the Aurors taken them away? Alarmed at his agitation, Minerva suppressed her own anxiety and told him what happened, in few reassuring words.

The Headmistress and the Mediwitch had arrived just in time to see Harry rise with a horrified expression, and Severus slowly fall back in oblivion. Upset but efficient as always, Poppy had impartially visited the wizard and the three students, then, relieved at their general conditions, she had conjured a stretcher and brought Severus out of the Hall. Under the insistent requests of an inexplicably obstinate Harry Potter, both Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley had agreed to keep the incident secret. On the contrary, Mr. Weasley had been extremely difficult to convince, determined as he was to punish the young offenders. But eventually the Aurors weren't called and the three Obliviated Slytherins were returned to their House in total unawareness of their deeds, with the Headmistress's intention to deal with their case the following morning. All the other students or professors who successively reached the scene, were informed that Severus had experienced a physical collapse, and thankfully this rigged explanation didn't raise any doubt or suspicion.

Then Minerva joined Poppy in the infirmary and quietly waited for Severus' awakening. Harry had been unexpectedly reticent about the event but, from the few words he had let out with the Headmistress, the situation appeared extremely grave, if not tragic. So, it was Severus' turn to speak at that point and, reliving his painful experience, he felt again an immense despair.

The vision that had hit him so violently was a vivid reality: three of his students had been used like puppets by a malignant power lurking in the castle. The mere idea was indeed terrifying, but the questions that rose immediately after were even more dreadful. Was the Dark Lord back? Could he have survived in a ghostly form? When and how would the monstrous presence reveal itself again? Was Severus its only target? And in this case, how could the dark wizard possibly escape such a terrible menace in his current condition?

Being the one charged with finding a solution, these questions were only a part of the burden that anguished Minerva in the following hours. As a first, immediate consequence, the old witch was forced to face the potential menace now represented by Severus Snape. Like Dumbledore for Remus Lupin, she was obliged to weigh the peace and security of a whole school against the personal safety of a single one. It was a devastating dilemma, and many considerations tormented the Headmistress in her effort to make the right choice.

All night Minerva debated with her conscience and finally, reluctantly, she bowed to it. The danger was too great to be underestimated. Heavy-hearted but determined, a cold fear churning in her stomach, she went to the Ministry in the early morning and was received by a very formal Cornelius Fudge.

The first unpleasant surprise arrived immediately after, as soon as the old witch explained the reasons of her visit. With his insincere chuckle, Fudge exclaimed, "Professor Snape must deeply miss his glorious past days to invent such a story! Please assure him that Lord… Lord You-Know-Who has totally disappeared, and there is no risk of seeing him again on this earth."

Then the consultant forced his lips in an indulgent smile. "This aggression has certainly been an unpleasant shock for the poor man. I suppose you have already taken the appropriate measures to punish those disrespectful lads."

Cornelius's eyes flashed quickly, while he seemed to search for the right words. Then he went on, softly but determinedly. "I also imagine that being the centre of the attention again must represent an enjoyable diversion for Professor Snape now, given his actual condition. But, alas! We can't admit these outbursts occurring, Minerva… in the interests of the community, of course! Our victory is too recent to be questioned with such inopportune declarations."

At the outraged protests of the Headmistress, insisting on the gravity of the matter and on the danger hanging over the school, Cornelius definitely abandoned his deceitful smile, answering with a menacing tone, "Please explain to Professor Snape that our patience has limits. We gave him a chance, but we are not going to tolerate this irresponsible behaviour any longer."

Then the door unexpectedly opened and the Minister himself made his entrance, facing the witch with his most impressive glare.

"I see that you are no longer happy to have taken this burden to Hogwarts, Minerva," Scrimgeour coldly declared. "I knew that this moment would come!"

The wizard and the witch stared at each other in hostility: a storm was ready to burst when they were suddenly interrupted by the untimely arrival of Arthur Weasley, eagerly carrying a pile of papers. With an incinerating glance, the Minister made the man retreat in confusion. Then, back in control again, he addressed the Headmistress with repressed anger.

"I warn you, Minerva! Don't even think of spreading panic _inside_ the school nor of diffusing false, deviant information _outside_ the school, otherwise your precious friend Severus Snape will be sent on a journey to Azkaban with no chance of return."

Raising a hand to stop Minerva's indignant reaction, Scrimgeour went on with a cruel smile, "The Board of Professors requested him back, the Board of Professors – and specifically you – must deal with his excesses. And remember, he is not allowed to use magic, especially since he has such a little control over his actions."

Those words were enough, and Minerva left the Ministry in cold fury. Immediately after, all the members of her staff were gathered and informed of what had happened. Reactions were different: some of the professors were ready to believe the Headmistress, but the majority agreed with Scrimgeour and smiled in condescension: Snape's vision was surely the result of his overexcited imagination after the students' aggression. The man was evidently fatigued and upset after a day full of emotions. Who could blame him if his mind had relived excerpts of a tragic past in the darkness of his skull? Instead, why not place the Slytherins under stricter control? Many of them were clearly untrustworthy, resentful and aggressive, ready to reiterate their violence... Such opinions raised the immediate protests of the Slytherin professors, an offended Slughorn leading the small group; only the scared Sybill paled in panic and pleaded to expel such a risky guest, but, of course, her words were lost in the growing confusion.

However, through those contrasting reactions, Minerva has been able to evaluate the terrible consequences of a possible mistake. Nevertheless, she has decided to uphold her resolution, and to honour the promise she'd made to Severus. The unlucky wizard surely represents a major danger to the students but, while the school is full of trained wizards and witches who can help contain the risk, outside he would be abandoned and defenceless. Therefore, circumventing the will of the Ministry, Minerva activates a system of protection and wards, telling the majority of her staff that it is only a precautionary measure to avoid other possible incidents. But more detailed instructions are secretly given to a few professors, the ones willing to join the Headmistress in the chase of the ferocious enemy so unpredictably reappeared…

**Severus Snape**

So, Severus Snape is still at Hogwarts, but the thought of living under a continuous menace, of being himself a possible menace - and therefore of being placed under continual, strict surveillance because of his limitation – is slowly poisoning his days, while a variety of problems have become his faithful companions.

The frustration of not being able to manage a great part of his daily necessities has been joined by an intense bitterness at the students' reactions. The Slytherins display a range of emotions that go from embarrassment to an evident resentment. The older ones are much more able at disguising their feelings, but they try to avoid him each time they casually meet him in the passages… a result not difficult to achieve, as he can't see them. The other Houses' students are undeniably polite, yet they become evidently uncomfortable as soon as they glance at his stony eyes. Besides, it is not easy to make them forget his "nasty Professor" role, a part that he has played so successfully for so many years. Soon, he dismisses any attempt of looking at least benevolent…

Flitwick's ingenious tools have quickly lost their appetising novelty, transforming into ordinary objects or toys. Amongst them, the walking stick has been the greatest disappointment. The cane is eager to lead him in the direction wanted, but in an automatic, absolutely mechanical way. In spite of several attempts, it has not been possible to program its routes, even less to make it elude the many dangers and difficulties disseminated in the castle. In addition, its rhythmic bouncing movement – that was originally intended to test the ground – becomes tiresome for hands and wrists, and is embarrassingly noisy. Each time Severus uses the stick, he feels an acute sense of uneasiness. Furthermore, unable to see what's happening around him, his fear of being ridiculed - one of his greatest concerns - is increased by the multitude of human beings constantly wandering all over the place. Nevertheless, the stick is his only means to autonomy at the moment: therefore, if he wants to be independent, he must grit his teeth and use it, exactly as he is doing today.

So he is walking absently, following the torpor-inducing cadence of the cane and wondering whom of his colleagues is discreetly keeping an eye on him at the moment, when his thoughts are suddenly dispersed by a very particular sound. Invisible to him, a student is watching Severus' uncertain walk, whispering amused comments to some other invisible children. Unfortunately for them, his hearing has become extremely keen.

"You!" he exclaims irritably, pointing a finger in the direction of the voice.

"Yes, sir?" Unmistakably a girl, and unpleasantly confident.

"What are your name and House?" he asks in his best intimidating tone.

"Joan Hopkins, Ravenclaw," she answers with total, exasperating lack of concern.

"Well, Miss Hopkins, I believe that five points will teach you some manners. I obviously mean five points "from" Ravenclaw. I'm sure your friends will appreciate this contribution to your House's successes."

"May I ask you why, sir?" Not even a hint of apprehension, even if an undoubted note of perplexity seems to transpire…

"No, you may not, as I'm sure you know very well what I'm talking about."

Instead of being silenced, the girl replies with disconcerting promptness, "Sorry, sir, but you cannot take points from any of the Houses. You are not a Professor anymore!"

She is hateful but she's also undeniably right, of course, while he has been too hurried in his reaction. Before he can utter a word, she recites, a inner pleasure betrayed by the smugness in her voice, "Former professors aren't allowed to punish or award or anyhow change, amend or adapt any of the established edicts, acts, rules, regulations, decrees or directives. I have read it in 'Hogwarts, a History', so, you see, you can't do what you said."

Another insufferable know-it-all, but this time even more detestable! He clenches his fists in rage, ready to argue, when a new voice interposes firmly, "Perhaps Professor Snape is not allowed to take points anymore, but indubitably I am. Fifteen points from Ravenclaw, Miss Hopkins, for your impertinent behaviour and for this inopportune display of erudition."

**Hermione Granger**

The girl gives a sudden gasp. Hermione Granger has unexpectedly appeared on the scene and her gaze shows no sympathy at all. The group of children cast a defiant, sullen glance at this teacher not much older than they are, and resentfully prepare to leave. But Hermione is inflexible, and stops the girl with a flash of her eyes.

"And, Miss Hopkins… your apologies would be deeply appreciated."

The girl mutters reluctantly, "Sorry, sir," and runs after her companions, who are looking back with half hesitant, half mocking smiles.

Severus lets the steps of the children fade in the distance. So, this morning it's Miss Granger's turn to watch over him! Feeling unreasonably irritated, he asks sharply, "Another good action for your already long list?"

Hermione smiles meekly. "I was looking for you. I… I have a question."

His reply sounds obviously disbelieving. "Then ask it immediately. I have an appointment with Headmistress McGonagall."

"May I help you to get there?"

"Thank you, Miss Granger, but I will go alone, with my own legs, which, differently from my eyes, are still perfectly functioning."

Words blurt out before she can stop them. "You never give up, do you?"

"Please spare me this irritating compassion!"

"It's not compassion, sir!" She protests, saddened for her blunder and for his reaction. "It's… admiration!"

"Admiration is a word that the world reserves to your friend Potter," he retorts coldly.

She stops, then, hesitantly, she says, "I would be honoured if… if you could consider me a friend."

Now it's his turn to stop and ask harshly, "What do you want from me, Miss Granger? I hope you didn't search for me just for the pleasure of this frivolous conversation."

Suddenly she feels discouraged. In a low voice, she replies, "I'm sorry. As you remarked, this wasn't probably the best moment. Excuse me again."

She leaves immediately after, leaving him baffled and curious. And strangely regretful.

**The craftsman**

Severus Snape has laboriously reached the place of his meeting, a little room near the Great Hall. Minerva is waiting outside, eyes anxiously scanning the corridor from behind her spectacles. As soon as she sees the dark figure approaching, she goes eagerly to greet him, a relieved smile reflecting in her voice.

"Perfectly on time, Severus. Thank you." The old witch tries to treat him exactly as she would do with any other member of the staff, so she refrains from complimenting his improved capacities in finding his way in the castle. He hates to be reminded that he "is blind but the situation is getting better". It will never get better for him. Never.

Minerva gently touches his fingers in a mute offer. The walk has been exhausting, and he is still frustrated from his verbal skirmish with the student, so the guide of her soft hand would be very comforting… Yet, he refuses her help with cold courtesy. He won't walk hand in hand any longer with somebody else, especially not now that the cane allows him some independence. It's a matter of will. His dignity barely permits Poppy to treat him this way! But she is a nurse, and he doesn't feel diminished by her attentions, while all the other people conceal an irritating pity under their courtesy.

As expected, there is another person in the room. Severus perceives this presence almost physically and, once again, he is amazed at realising how much his senses have sharpened. The dark wizard knows who is concealed to his eyes, yet he keeps silent, waiting for the other one to speak. This is a lesson his blindness has painfully taught him: never make the first move.

"Ah… Severus Snape…" An ageless voice greets him. "It's a honour for me to meet you again, Professor. And I am even more honoured considering that the wand that operated such wonders in the last battle came from my humble shop."

Acknowledging the presence of Mr. Ollivander, the famous wand maker, Severus gives a curt nod. He detests being reminded that both his luck and his misfortune derive from the same cause: his participation in the last battle. As if he hadn't done anything else before…

"I remember very well the first day I had the chance to know you…" Ollivander's memories flow slow and reassuring. The old man is astounding in his mental exertions, but Severus isn't interested in the reminiscences of his youth. He needs a new wand, and Minerva has promised to help him. The Headmistress is well aware of what Rufus Scrimgeour reiterated in her last visit - "_No magic allowed to Severus Snape_" - but she has been ready to defy the Ministry once more and arrange a visit of the renowned wand maker, far away from Diagon Alley and from possible indiscreet eyes. However, watching the younger wizard's tense expression, Minerva thinks that it's lucky that Severus has arrived too late to hear what Ollivander was explaining.

"_People in St. Mungo's have asked me to check Professor Snape's wand. I must say that I never seen something similar. The wand seems to possess an inner life. It's coal black and completely burnt, yet it's still unbreakable. A malignant force is surely controlling it and I don't know how it could be expelled_."

Back in the present again, Minerva hears Ollivander conclude his memories in his characteristic dreamy tone, declaring, "I have brought some of my best productions with me, Professor. I'm sure we'll find something that suits you better."

A tap of his wand, and a multitude of miniature cartons suddenly appear on a desk next to him. Smiling reassuringly, the old man takes one of the boxes in his palm, thus making it return to its normal dimensions.

"Let's see…" he murmurs, and a thoughtful expression veils his eerie eyes for a moment, while he weighs a beautifully polished rod in his hand before offering it to the hopeful wizard.

Severus tightens his fingers around the wand. Magic seems to instantly react at this contact and he shivers in joy, feeling powerful waves run again in his body. But this sensation doesn't last for too long. The wand begins to sputter intermittently, sparkles, then abruptly turns off. Ollivander casts a glance at Minerva, raising his brows in perplexity.

"Let's try this…" The old man carefully chooses another wand; but, as soon as Severus grabs it, he feels the wooden stick convulse against his fingers as if it is rebelling against him in a desperate effort. Ollivander practically snatches the rod away and steps back, holding it against his chest and considering Severus with a wondering frown. Then, even more carefully, he chooses a new one.

"This?" He asks in a whisper, placing a smooth, shiny masterpiece in Severus' hand. This time the reaction is definitely frightening. The wand blazes as if it had been ignited, becoming painfully hot. Taken by surprise, Severus gasps and instinctively opens his fingers. With a quick gesture, Ollivander grabs the wand at mid air, staring at Severus with something similar to fear in his eyes.

Minerva has observed in growing tension. She opens her mouth to speak but Severus is quicker.

"I suppose my magic has vanished, has it?" he asks quietly.

"Not exactly, Professor Snape…" Ollivander is uneasy. "You are even too powerful, if I may say so. Your inner magic is too strong for a wand. There is something, a force inside you that interferes… I'm afraid I can't be of help. Perhaps we should let time pass and see if this power evolves into something more controllable."

Minerva's eyes flash suddenly while Severus doesn't reply. After the meeting with Albus Dumbledore, he has learnt that opposing his destiny is vain. Nobody can help him, and Ollivander's emotion, so unusual in a man that is always serene, is illuminating. The two persons who are not blind now look at each other in understanding. The wand maker nods meaningfully to Minerva, then he bids goodbye to Severus with a regretful tone and finally leaves, with the promise to do his best to solve the problem.

Alone with the Headmistress, Severus lowers his head, isolating himself once more in his dark armour. So, he has been left unarmed against the wicked force that is haunting the castle! Looking at his exhausted face, Minerva has the same thought, and her heart twists painfully in fear. So powerful… and yet, so immensely vulnerable!

**Harry Potter**

A bespectacled boy is walking in the castle. The students look at him, some in curiosity, some in scorn, some in respect, but nobody dares to stop him. Lost in an inner meditation, an absent-minded expression on his face, the boy smiles affectionately at the portraits and at the many familiar places he encounters in his pacing, moving confidently in those well-known corridors. Finally, he reaches a door and knocks softly.

"Come in!" Headmistress McGonagall is sitting in her office, behind a desk full of papers divided into ordered piles. She smiles. "Mr. Potter… Harry. I'm glad you came. Would you like a cup of tea and some biscuits?"

Surprisingly, these kind words awaken a multitude of memories, and the boy makes a heroic effort not to laugh. Her question has reminded him of the many circumstances in which he has been offered a sweet by one of his professors, and the stony creations made by Hagrid have unexpectedly popped up in his mind.

"N-no, thank you," Harry says with a grimace to hide his amusement, and the Headmistress smiles again. The boy seems strangely elated, so she's happy for him too… even if she needs to ask him something very important and mortally grave. She adjusts her spectacles over the bridge of her nose, then interlaces her fingers. Harry becomes immediately serious.

"So… You know what's happening. A malignant presence is infesting the castle and we are probably in great danger again."

Harry nods, and the old witch resumes her speech, looking at him with expectant eyes. "Now, not only we have a big problem, but we have also a very particular situation that we need to solve urgently, as it could be the answer to our worries. We are still missing a Defence teacher… and a head for the House of Gryffindor."

Minerva takes a deep breath and says simply, "I was thinking to offer both positions to you."

"But… but I can't accept, Professor. I'm too young!" Harry immediately reacts. "_And I don't want to be trapped again in this wicked scheme!"_ His brain silently screams.

"Professor Snape himself wasn't much older than you are when he accepted, becoming our new Potions master… and then Head of Slytherin," the old witch replies with her most reasonable tone.

"Well… perhaps a teacher… but Head of the House!" The boy is fighting against himself, torn between his sense of duty and a strong repugnance for this unexpected, undesirable task.

"And it doesn't seem to me that your age mattered when you met Lord…. well, You-Know-Who in the Dungeons," the Headmistress continues obstinately.

Harry looks at his Professor with a disapproving frown. Is she already so frightened as to renounce the use of the Dark Lord's name? She understands what he thinks and blushes. As a reaction, her tone becomes involuntarily hard. "In any case, Potter, it will be only a temporary task."

"All the more reason, then!" He declares resolutely. "I can do what is needed without bearing this imposition!"

Harry crosses his arms and raises two weary, defiant eyes; wordless, an incredulous Minerva stares at him in frustration…

"Accept, Potter!" A low, harsh voice suddenly breaks the silence, taking the two antagonists by surprise.

Dumbfounded, Harry turns his head and scans the room. Hidden by a pile of books, Severus Snape is sitting in an armchair, chin resting on hands crossed over a walking stick. An intense expression of bitterness is shaping his features, and he seems to stare at the flames in the fireplace.

Nobody answers his declaration so, after a moment, Severus raises his head and repeats, speaking apparently to the fire, "Accept! Don't you remember the circus you put on in your fifth year? Didn't you play professor with your fellow students for almost a semester? Yet, it seems that it worked. I was extremely surprised when I saw that even Longbottom had managed to obtain an Exceeds Expectations in his OWL."

For a moment, Harry feels betrayed. The presence of his former professor is something unexpected and, above all, destabilizing. He turns to look at Minerva with an accusing scowl. The old witch blushes again and says, almost imperceptibly, "I'm sorry. We were having tea together, and he fell asleep just before your arrival…"

Sounds like an excuse but, eventually, Harry shrugs. Why not, after all? He wanted to speak with Snape again, and this could be the right occasion. So, he asks softly, "Please, let me talk with him." Then, after a thoughtful glance at the sullen man, he specifies in a louder voice, "In private."

The Headmistress scrutinizes him warily then nods in assent. Moving her wand around her head with a circular movement, she mutters a spell in a low voice, enclosing herself in a soundless shell. Harry rises from his chair and reaches Severus with a few, measured steps. The man remains impassively still, while the boy vibrates in expectation.

It's a hard moment for the dark wizard. His feelings are bubbling inside him in disorder despite his expressionless features, and Harry can easily perceive a violent flux of emotions.

"So, Potter?" Severus enquires sarcastically. "Tired of playing hero? Or just delaying for the pleasure of being courted?"

Suddenly, his brows furrow expressively and he exclaims, with a nasty smile, "But wait, now I remember! You need to see me knocked down, to feel involved."

Refusing to bite the hook, Harry asks firmly, "Do you really want me to help you?" He is silently hoping that what happened in the Great Hall might have changed the feelings of the dark man sitting in front of him. But he is immediately disillusioned.

"I am not asking for me, Potter!" Severus replies harshly. "My life is irrelevant, considering the many other ones that could possibly be endangered."

"Of course! But now who's playing hero?" Harry remarks coldly, feeling a violent detestation rise again in his chest… unexpectedly followed by a reluctant admiration for that arrogant man. No doubt that his former professor is sincere in this declaration. Memories of what happened in the Dungeons are still vivid in the boy's mind, and, even more vivid, the horrid vision of a snakelike face laughing in folly.

Yes, Snape is right. Too many lives are at stake now, and some of them too immensely important: his friends, his girlfriend, everything and everybody Harry loves and cares for in this world is once more exposed to a terrible menace. The boy trembles in frustration. His destiny seems to reiterate its horror in an endless cycle. And, to increase his anger even more, he is forced to share again the weight of such a dangerous task with this unwilling, aggravating partner.

Dispersing Harry's comment with an impatient wave of his hand, Severus continues with a twisted smile, "But perhaps you are afraid? It would be comprehensible, after all. Being the Chosen One surely has its negative sides."

"I'm not afraid!" Harry instantly reacts, and immediately after he blames himself for having been so easily hooked. Controlling his temper with an effort, he repeats in a calmer voice, "I'm not afraid."

"You are not afraid? Then you are extremely confident in your luck, Potter. Or just incredibly foolish," Severus replies sharply. A tense silence fills the room while the two wizards seem to defy each other in a mute challenge. And strangely, this time it's Snape who seems to surrender first. With a sigh, he pushes the heels of his hands against his eyes in the first wholly unguarded movement Harry has ever seen from him. Then he raises his head, uncovering his face and soul with a disarming admission.

"A whole life hasn't been enough," he murmurs slowly, closing his eyes in defeat.

The boy is unbalanced by these mysterious words. Then, suddenly, he perceives the immense bitterness and desolation concealed in the man before him, a man who has determinedly undergone every sort of danger to save Harry and the wizarding world, but who now can only rely upon the reluctant mercy of those he once had protected.

Unfair… This is the first word that comes immediately to Harry's mind, and this awareness fills his heart with a multitude of contrasting thoughts, until he finally extracts the feeling that hurts him more than the others.

"You ask me, but you don't trust me."

Severus reacts indignantly. "And you, did you ever trust me, Potter?"

"I… you…" Harry articulates in a vain effort to resist his emotions. Then, with a sudden decision, he turns impetuously towards the Headmistress, who is watching the scene from her noiseless shell.

"Professor McGonagall!" he exclaims, walking to her desk in a fury and hitting his fists on it with a forceful thud. Called with such indecorous vehemence, the old witch startles and frowns, raising two inquiring, cold eyes.

"Yes, Potter?" she asks sternly.

Harry gulps and lowers his voice.

"I accept."


	17. The colour of the leaves

**A Matter of Will**

by Lady Memory

(simply Memory in SH and TPP)

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer**__: I don't obviously own any one of the recognizable characters in this story, even if I would like to._

_As always, heartfelt thanks to my wonderful beta __**Duj**__ for her kind revision, useful suggestions and infinite patience. All my sincere thanks to those reading and reviewing. _

_**IMPORTANT: MESSAGE DATED SEPTEMBER 2009**_

_**To the kind readers who have followed this story during the last year or who have just discovered it now.**_

_**In particular, to all those who want to know if I have stopped writing it:**_

_I'm sorry to admit that the story is languishing in a corner, but not because I have ever thought to discontinue it. _

_In short: in the previous months, I have published a little novel in 4 chapters, whose name is Second Chance and that was supposed to end there. But that story had something inside that was calling me powerfully, and at the end, I ceded its call and began to add new chapters. _

_As I have very little spare time, I was forced to sacrifice Matter of Will, but the sacrifice will only be temporary. Second Chance is approaching its end: as soon as I have finished the last chapter, I will immediately come back to Matter of Will. _

_If you are interested, please, be patient. Again, I will be back._

**Chapter 16 – The colour of the leaves**

**Hermione**

Hermione Granger has just Apparated into the disordered room she remembers so well. So many happy memories of her life are enclosed in this little space. But there is no longer a merry confusion there, no more voices and laughter and funny chatter. The Burrow is desolately quiet: Bill has his own family, Percy works at the Ministry, the twins are busy with their unexpectedly successful shop, and Ginny is back at Hogwarts.

All the children have left, except two: Charlie, who is no more with them, but whose presence is everywhere in the house, in the pictures and little personal objects lovingly displayed; and Ron, who is lying in a bed, unable to move and undergoing excruciating pains. The house itself seems to have shrunk and greyed as if reflecting the sufferings of those inside it.

An alarmed Molly Weasley now peeks from the kitchen door. Her lips tighten when she sees Hermione, and her face hardens in what has become her usual unfriendly expression.

"Good afternoon…" Hermione greets timidly.

"So, here you are," the woman notices in a disconcertingly cold manner, and the girl lowers her head, biting her lip. She always feels very uncomfortable lately. Molly's pain seems to transform into resentment each time she see her son's girlfriend, as if Hermione was responsible for his misfortune. But before the girl can think of an appropriate answer, the older woman startlingly returns to a frightening imitation of her maternal manners, asking uncaringly, "How are you? Tired? Hungry? Would you like to eat something? I have just finished feeding Ron…"

A tear slowly trickles down, but Molly doesn't wipe it. Instead, she cleans her hands in the apron and says with a hesitant smile, "Fruit milkshake, the only food he can eat with no trouble…"

Her smile is turning into something painful to see. Hermione feels the urge to escape the sight of this woman that has changed into somebody she doesn't recognize any longer. But she resists, thinking of Ron, and asks instead, "May I see him?"

"Of course, dear. You will have to hurry, however. He has just taken his medicine, so he will fall asleep soon."

Hermione feels a sudden anger. Molly knew she was coming to visit! Why did she administer the medicine to Ron? Did she want to ruin their meeting? Is she jealous? Or simply insensitive? Wordlessly, the girl begins to climb the ladder, rage churning in her stomach at each step. But when she opens the door of his bedroom, all her incensed feelings are immediately brushed away.

"Hermione!" the red haired boy lying on the bed opens enormous, dark-rimmed eyes. His joy is so heartbreaking that the girl can't resist. With a little sob, she runs to throw her arms around him, kneeling by the bed, kissing him and feeling his tears mix with hers, while she hugs him with infinite tenderness.

"You've come, you are here…" Ron repeats, in incredulous happiness. His hands tighten around hers in a grip strong enough to be painful, but she doesn't care. Her head on his chest, she listens to the hurried thudding of his heart, enjoying the closeness of his body. Finally she raises her eyes to contemplate him. He looks thin and exhausted. Even the act of breathing seems to exact an immense effort and now that his heartbeats have sped up in emotion, this anguishing fatigue is particularly evident. He smiles at her, an adoring smile, while his fingers gently follow the curve of her cheek… Then his hand falls back on the sheets, as if the effort has been too arduous.

"How beautiful you are, Hermione," Ron whispers, and tears shine in his eyes. The girl feels guilty. Before leaving the castle, she has carefully performed the Transfiguration spell Headmistress McGonagall had taught her, as she wants to appear at her best to her boyfriend. But now, how all her manoeuvres seem senseless, in face of such excruciating sufferings! She bends to kiss him again, trying to control her emotion.

"How are you, Ron?" she finally manages to ask.

"My skin is stiffening. Soon I'll be totally immobilized," he declares nonchalantly, in a heartbreaking attempt of looking unconcerned. Then, revealing his immense hope and faith in his girlfriend, he adds with a trustful smile, "But you will find a remedy, I'm sure."

Hermione hesitates, and he asks anxiously, "You did speak with Snape, did you? Did you tell him your idea?"

The girl turns her eyes away, ashamed. "I've tried… But he is always irritated."

Frustration and disappointment make a quick appearance on Ron's face, and his lips twitch in the effort of repressing his emotions. Then, without warning, his head has a first, uncontrolled swaying movement. Alarmed, Hermione recognises the signs of the magically induced slumber. The two youngsters look at each other in despair. Then the boy grabs her hand in a painful prayer.

"Please stay with me! I… I love you… so… much…"

Ron reclines his head, vainly struggling against the effects of the medicine. Gradually, his eyelids close and his fingers relax their grip, while he still babbles incoherent words of love. Holding his hand as if it was a bridge between their souls, Hermione helplessly watches him fade away in oblivion. Then, feeling an acute pain in her chest, the girl lowers her head in quiet desperation, letting her tears fall down and draw damp little circles on the sheets.

**Severus**

Severus Snape is discouraged. The days are passing, and he feels more and more uncomfortable in the place that should have been his home. Even though an inner persistence keeps him searching for a purpose that can fill his empty days, he can't find any. After the banquet's incident and the Ministry's warning, the majority of his colleagues have cautiously isolated him, with the excuse of allowing him to "recover from his illness". No reading, no teaching, no researching… he is living constantly apart, and this awareness fills him with a deep sense of desolation: once he liked his solitude, now he fears it, as it has been brutally imposed and is painfully endured. Still, he refuses to be pitied or to inflict his company on those who seem so uninterested in it. It's a matter of will, and seclusion is what his will and his pride suggest in these cases. Therefore, acknowledging his insistent requests - and after casting an amazing quantity of protective spells – today Poppy has reluctantly allowed him to go out in a lonely, sheltered yard, guided by a house-elf.

So, Severus is sitting in the garden, enjoying the warmth of an unexpectedly mild afternoon. The irregular shape of the rock he's using as a chair is reassuringly protective in its hardness, and he lies still, leaving his hands abandoned on the rough armrests, while his fingers distractedly explore the irregularities of the stone. Muffled voices and noises come from the castle's wings that surround the little area like arms. Cradled by these sounds, he leans his head back, losing himself in memories.

When he was a young Slytherin, he loved the quiet simplicity of this squared space, wedged amongst the heights of the castle's towers. No flowers or hedges embellished its flat lawn, and the only ornament offered to the sight of the rare visitors was a magnificent, huge tree, splendid in the silvery green colour of its foliage.

As a child, Severus had always felt a strange affinity with that lonely giant: so, today, he is eager to ask his guide about it as soon as they reach the garden. Knowing that the news will pain his master, the house-elf replies with the soft tones he would use in the presence of a seriously ill patient. The great tree is still standing there, but it is going to be cut in a few months: the old trunk has grown too frail in its height, and its branches have become weirdly deformed. This announcement hurts Severus in a bizarre way, raising a pained, incredulous reaction. How could the powerful giant of his memories change so much, and in such a distorted way?

The house-elf quietly leaves Severus. The garden is now immersed in an ethereal peace, but a thousand thoughts are tormenting the wizard, and some of them are particularly hurtful: how much has he changed too? And how can he know without asking somebody, and probably being exposed to some pitiful lie? Severus turns his cheek to feel the warm roughness of the stone. Slowly, hesitantly, he touches his face, following the curve of his nose and exploring every sharp angle of his features…

But his fingers are ineffective tools for this kind of operations, and the attempt produces only a painful consideration: he won't be allowed to see himself age. His face will soften with wrinkles, and his black hair will fade into white. But in his memories, Severus Snape will forever remain as he saw himself before the last battle, a blurred image that a mirror accidentally reflected while he was rushing to reach the Dark Lord in the Dungeons.

He sighs in bitterness. Would something have changed on that wicked day, had he known that he was not going to lose his life as he had expected, but the symbol of life itself, its true essence… his sight? Would he have looked in a different way at the things around him, had he known that he would never see them again?

A gentle wind has begun to blow and, automatically, he wraps himself more tightly in the cloak, while he resumes his meditation. Fall is approaching slowly this year, and these crisp breezes are the first harbingers of its arrival. Is the great tree already changing its colours? Are its silvery green leaves taking those exquisite red shades that are a prelude to death? He doesn't know, and he will never know, unless somebody tells him.

But the great tree obviously can't be aware of the horrible fate that is waiting for it, and the idea makes Severus unexpectedly shiver. Is he passing through the same trial? Will there ever be a salvation and a rebirth – even in a way that he can't imagine at the moment - or has Dumbledore always lied to him? A silent rage tears his soul, and he hits the rocky armrests in cold fury, darkly enjoying the pain reverberating in his hands.

But suddenly he remembers, and stops in alarm. Poppy might be watching. The infirmary's windows are right over the garden. He doesn't want her to fret about him. So, checking his anger with a violent effort, he leans back again on the stony lap, that has become cold and unwelcoming as if reflecting the course of his feelings.

Severus closes his eyes in the parody of a rest. His body claims the reiteration of actions that have no more sense for him now. Yet, he must close his eyes to fall asleep and, obediently, he complies, looking for a reprieve in the black tunnel of his misery.

**Hermione**

Hermione is back in the kitchen. Molly is washing the dishes but, strangely, she is not using magic: she's working manually, and with a lot of noise, as if she wants to isolate herself. Feeling Hermione's presence behind her, the older witch slowly wipes her hands in the apron, then turns to look at the girl in hostility.

"Already finished?" she asks harshly. "Ready to go back to Hogwarts and enjoy the happy company?"

Reacting in cold determination at these words, Hermione reverses the transfiguration spell that controls her features. Horrified, Molly gives a sudden gasp, staggering back in shock. Then something finally breaks inside the little woman, and she begins to sob desperately.

"Ms. Weasley… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…" Hermione murmurs, already regretting her impulsive action.

Hiding her face in her hands, Molly replies through broken sobs, "It's my fault… But I can't stand it any longer! My son, my little one! He suffers so much! He needs the sleeping draught more and more often to resist his pain, and we can do nothing except watch him suffer."

Gradually recovering her control, the little woman lifts her head and wipes her tears. With a shy expression, as if afraid to be rejected, she moves forwards to take Hermione's hands into hers.

"Please forgive me… I've been cruel with you," she prays, raising imploring eyes, and the girl nods, disarmed before such anguish. But there is something else that Molly needs to confide in her anxiety of cleaning her soul.

"Arthur has changed so much…" she whispers worriedly. "He can't accept what has happened… I am so scared for him! Always thinking about that wicked day, always torturing himself about Charlie…"

Feeling a strange urge in her heart, Hermione asks firmly, "Where is Mr. Weasley now?"

Watching the girl with reddened eyes painfully similar to Ron's, Molly answers in a mix of hope and desperation, "In the living room. He's just come back. Why do you ask?… Are you going…"

But Hermione has already turned and cautiously opened the door.

"Mr. Weasley?" she calls softly.

The living room is dim and gloomy, like its only occupant. Arthur Weasley is sitting on the old stained sofa, and his eyes stare blankly at the empty fireplace.

"How are you, Hermione?" he asks expressionlessly, without even turning his head. The girl is suddenly chilled.

"Mr. Weasley…" she says tentatively.

"I know why you are here, and I thank you. You are a good friend." The man is still speaking unemotionally, in spite of the touching words that he is using.

"_I am also Ron' s girlfriend, though everybody seems to have forgotten it!"_ Hermione thinks bitterly, clenching her fists in frustration. But she can only repeat, "Mr. Weasley…"

"I know what you'd like to ask me." His answer finally shows a hint of emotion. "Molly must have spoken with you, has she? Poor dear! I'm so sorry. It is not her fault."

Mustering her courage, Hermione resolves to go sitting near Arthur. Never she has felt so ill at ease with this man, whose cordiality she liked so much! Arthur doesn't seem bothered by her altered features. His eyes are fixed on the fireplace and, following his gaze, Hermione understands with a shiver what is attracting them there.

A shiny polished wand is on the mantle, black, inflexible and cruel as its previous owner. Arthur nods slowly.

"Yes, it's Bellatrix's. My cousin. She killed Charlie with that."

He pauses, as if he was still incredulous of what he had witnessed, then he adds softly, "And laughing."

Words come out painfully now, like droplets of blood from a wound, while Arthur relives his memories in a frightening reverie.

"I had entered the Dungeons to protect Ginny, because she was following you there. Charlie was quicker and ran after his sister, just in time to save her from Dolohov's curse. Then I arrived, but it was too late: Bellatrix had seized her opportunity. Two words, a green flash, and Charlie was lying on the ground."

The pain in his words is unbearable, and Hermione feels tears well in her eyes; but the man continues implacably, as if punishing himself.

"My son. Dead. And I hadn't been in time to do anything. Bellatrix was there, laughing at me, and I felt my heart become as hard as a stone."

Arthur reclines his head, folding his arms across his chest. His voice comes out low but perfectly audible, in the grim silence of the room. Short, implacable, chilling, every sentence is a stab for Hermione.

"I never thought I could harm a human being, but she was no longer human. So, I cast the Unforgivable. She fell in the mud, and her wand rolled out from her hand. I took it, and the castle began to vibrate. She must have died while Harry called the ghosts to claim Voldemort. I hope they brought her to hell with her master."

The voice has stopped now but, when Arthur raises his head, his eyes are dry. He points at the fireplace with an unwavering finger.

"This is the wand that killed Charlie. It will forever be exposed in this house, as a perpetual memory of his courage… and of my failure."

Hermione is aghast. Turning at the door, she can see Molly leaving hurriedly, while a soft sound of sobs reaches her ears. Suddenly, the girl feels a desperate urge to escape this house and the frightening memories it includes. She gets up, while a thought resounds incessantly in her head: go back to Hogwarts, find Severus Snape and finally oblige him to give her a reply.

**Severus**

Abruptly awakening from a troubled rest, Severus automatically opens his eyes. But this time he remains seated in an astonished silence. A foggy mist is slowly dissolving from his eyes, and his avid pupils open wide in the effort of absorbing the vision displayed in front of him. The garden is there, splendid in its colours, and he breathes slowly, trying to focus the still slightly unfocused vision, hoping against hope, feeling an immense joy laughing in his heart.

Slowly, as if afraid to break the enchantment, he roams the space with his amazing new sight, and finally he stops and contemplates the tree. The foliage is exploding in vibrancy. How immense it has become! And how strangely its branches intersect in frightening, bizarre shapes!

Suddenly, the image trembles and moves, as if seen through a distorted glass, or through the flames of a fire. The great tree seems to inhale and expand. Its leaves gradually, fascinatingly change their colour, turning crimson rose, then dark purple, then intense violet, then, with a last vibration, deep red.

Now the tree stays still, palpitating as a breathing man, and its branches seem to open like arms and invite Severus, asking him to get closer. Slowly, the wizard gets to his feet, looking around hazily. He feels his heart dilate in the perception of an inner power finally revealing itself. Lost in this inebriating sensation, he moves dreamily towards the tree, until he faces it. Then he stops expectantly, expanding all his senses as he waits.

**Hermione**

Panting, Hermione enters the infirmary. She has run determinedly to find Madam Pomfrey, without allowing herself a second thought, because this time nothing and nobody is going to stop her. The old witch smiles at her hurried arrival and serenely replies. Professor Snape is in the inner yard, just under their windows. She checks him constantly and so far he seems to be resting. The girl looks downward. Yes, there he is, his familiar shape clad in his black robes, and curled on a stony seat in peaceful slumber.

But what is happening now? Why has the dark wizard suddenly moved? Why has he raised his head? Has he perhaps decided to go back to the castle? Lately he has been living in his quarters practically all day… But if he leaves, she won't be allowed to talk to him there! She must reach him while he is still in that open space! Smiling nervously at the perplexed Madam Pomfrey, she leaves immediately, rushing down the narrow ladder that is a shortcut to the garden.

**Severus**

Feeling slightly drunk, the wizard stretches a hand to touch the hard scales of the trunk. With a powerful shiver, the tree turns unexpectedly and frighteningly black. Then, slowly, a masked figure comes out from behind the trunk and advances solemnly to meet Severus, kneeling in front of him.

Lucius Malfoy unmasks himself, and his blond, almost white hair shine under the pale rays of the fading sun, while he bows respectfully to his old friend. Severus reacts in wonder.

"Lucius? Is this you? How can this be possible? I thought you were still in Azkaban…"

The man raises his head with a triumphant laughter. "This is a demonstration that nothing is impossible to those who have our power. You too could use it for great enterprises, if only you'd strengthen your will."

"I can't… I'm blind…" Severus answers weakly, lost in a painful trance.

"You won't be blind anymore, once you have learned to control the power inside you. Do not fight it! Let it help you, let it possess you entirely… and it will give you the world! Who will be able to oppose you, now that you have the might and the glory of the Dark Lord in your hands?!"

Severus meditates, while an anguishing sensation begins to tighten his heart. There is something wrong here, but his brain is as confused and blind as his eyes were before. Yet there is also an exciting promise in Lucius' words. Why not, after all? Why not use the power his dark master dispersed so inconsiderately in the last moments of his life? Perhaps the magic that blinded Severus wasn't a curse; perhaps it was an unexpected blessing, a magnificent present, a tacit legacy that the younger wizard didn't recognize.

The anguishing sensation is now intolerably acute, and Severus moves a step backwards. Lucius raises a hand to stop him, pleading with his most persuasive tone.

"Severus, you were our friend and comrade. Would you become our Master? Would you take the role your power is granting you? Here we are, the confused, dispersed army of those who were faithful to the Dark Lord… Would you gather us all in his name?"

Temptation sinks its cruel teeth in his heart. Not only sight, but also power and glory… Then something seems to awaken, and he whispers hoarsely, "I don't know who you are, but stay away from me!"

With an exultant, vicious laugh, Lucius suddenly transforms himself into Avery, then into Dolohov, then into Rockwood, then into a multitude of faces and bodies, those of his former friends and allies amongst the Death Eaters. Finally, the unknown entity before Severus takes on a feminine appearance, dreadful yet fascinating in her cruel beauty.

"Still not tired of being a pitiful relic, Severus? Still despising the power you host in your heart, but that you have unworthily, dishonourably rejected? What should we do to convince you?"

Horror vibrates in Severus' words, horror and desperation. "In the name of the cursed power you respect, I command you: begone!"

The woman's voice becomes harsh, loud and distorted. "Then you'll regret your decision."

Her face changes into that of a demon, and the monstrous creature flings itself on him with a horribly hungry grin. Severus staggers back, while a merciless blackness suddenly invades his eyes, and he instinctively lifts his arms – vainly, he knows – to stop the attack.

Then, unexpectedly, another feminine voice cries imperiously, "Protego!" and an incorporeal shield interposes between him and his enemy. The violence of the spell is so strong that the world seems to crash in a thousand pieces; he falls back on the grass, shocked, confused, but still shying away in his desperation.

"Don't move!" the voice commands, and finally he recognizes its owner: Miss Granger. The first feeling, strangely, is relief. He is not alone; a friend has come to help. Then, as soon as he perceives that the danger has vanished and that she is thoroughly but uselessly searching the place, a multitude of sensations begins to vibrate in his heart: anger at being found again in a situation of vulnerability; frustration at his helplessness; irritation at the absence of those who were supposed to help; despair at the ephemeral miracle of his sight; and finally, humiliation at being saved by a girl.

"Miss Granger…" he growls, but he is immediately silenced by her many anxious questions.

"It seems that the danger has passed. Are you feeling well? What happened? Who was attacking you?"

She must have knelt beside him. The hands helping him to reach the seat are kind but firm in their gentleness.

"I will call Madam Pomfrey immediately…" she begins, worried at his silence, and his reaction is an explosive "NO!" that surprises him too.

"No," he repeats more calmly, though still breathing in accelerated gasps. There is no need to spread the news now, no need to give more gossip to his detractors. The attack has been overcome, even though the squad that should have come to his rescue has mysteriously missed the occasion… and this too has been an unpleasant surprise. Why didn't Poppy's spells react as they should have? However, he doesn't want the control on his person to be intensified. Life is already intolerable as it is. He wants to be free, whatever the price may be.

"Miss Granger," he therefore murmurs, while his hands grab the rocky armrests, and his body shivers in the predictable reaction to his previous explosion of adrenaline.

"I am here," she replies concernedly, and places a hand over his wrist. He stiffens in anger. He doesn't like to be coddled after such a strong emotion. It makes him feel even more vulnerable… yet, there is something so comforting in her closeness… The clasp of his cloak suddenly feels suffocating on his throat, and his nerveless fingers struggle unsuccessfully against its pressure.

"Let me help you," she says, and he feels a gentle touch on his skin. The sensation of an inner immense joy is devastating.

"Please…" he asks tremblingly. He never used such a pleading tone with her, and he feels ashamed for his weakness.

"Please," he repeats, more firmly, "don't say a word about this. I have my reasons."

"I too have mine to make a report," she replies imperturbably, placing again a reassuring hand on his wrist.

"You don't understand!" he reacts agitatedly, hoping however that her hand will remain where it is. Something sweet and healing is reaching his heart, and he is desperate to be forced to fight this feeling back, while he is so acutely longing for it.

"My life… my worries… my…" Which words should he use to convince her to abdicate to her duty? How can he explain that now he has definitely realized that nobody else is in danger, except himself? His head leans against the stony backrest, and a deep sigh escapes his lips, while he pleads his case.

"Can't you see? It's useless! What's the use of agitating Poppy, what's the point of causing Minerva anguish? It's me that this damn fiend wants, so it's useless involving other people!"

She gently tightens her fingers to stop him, then she asks softly, "Tell me what happened. I won't betray you, I promise. But please, tell me everything."

No more student and professor, but two human beings on equal basis. Keeping his arm accurately still to prevent the possible loosening of her grip, he sighs again and then speaks.

**Hermione**

She listens carefully. Her soul is twitching in repressed emotion. Is this perhaps the occasion she was looking for? Have these horrible circumstances put her professor in the propitious conditions she hoped?

But no, this is not a secret that she can hold. She must share it with the Headmistress. And yet, a mad possibility whirls into her mind…why not offer to trade his secret with her question?

No. NO. NO! Again, this is not correct. She is not going to take advantage of his blindness. But, while she is debating with herself, Severus has finished his reluctant report, and now waits in anxiety, his blank eyes looking at her in what could be interpreted as hopeful trust. The girl is extremely moved, but her rationality keeps her vigilant. Finally, she makes a move.

"I have a question for you, Professor," she says.

**Severus**

A vivid memory lights in Severus' mind and he relives a similar situation: another place, another voice, another girl, a gentle one who seemed so harmless and innocent, and yet was able to fool him with just a single question. His heart twists in rage, breaking the sweet enchantment.

"You always have questions for me in the most inopportune moments," he replies angrily, his control finally recovered. With a sudden jerk, he releases his wrist.

Now he understands it perfectly. This girl too is using his misadventure and his limitation for her purposes. Her pity is only a calculated exercise. An immense bitterness fills his heart, and it's only with a violent effort that he remains impassive. Now he wants to know, he needs to know. What can be so important to make her take so lightly what has happened? His lips silently curl in a cruel smile. Let's pretend, let her believe what she prefers. His secret is going to be revealed in any case, so let the girl discover hers.

"So, your question?" he asks coldly, crossing his arms.

Hermione

Hermione is surprised and already regretful. But the thought of Ron lying in a bed, imprisoned in his own dying body, forces her to go on.

"I have been reading a lot for my duties, lately," she begins uncertainly. Her beginning couldn't have been worse.

"If you want me to protest about this, I'm afraid this is a complaint I cannot share," he replies with a twisted smile.

"I'm sorry, "she says simply, then she continues on her risky path. "Now that I have free access to the Restricted Section, I have explored it thoroughly."

"How fascinating! Were you going perhaps to ask me to join you in this delectable activity?"

"Please!" she silences him brusquely. "Perhaps you don't know and you don't care, but I am actively trying to find a cure for us… for all of us."

"You?! Those arrogant experts in St. Mungo's didn't succeed, and you, a mere girl, an ex-student who hasn't even finished her studies, hope to be abler than they were?"

"Yes!" she answers resolutely, trying to keep her voice steady. "Because, unlike them, I care."

He remains silent and again she goes on. "I have found a very ancient book in the library… a very ancient one." Her tone becomes a whisper. "The name is 'De Iniquis Remediis'."

This time he is astonished. "You found… what?"

Then he becomes furious. "How did you dare to open it, even simply to touch it? It's… it's…"

"I know." Her determination is growing with each word. "But it was necessary, and I couldn't ask Professor Slughorn."

**Severus**

He snorts in anger. Why not? And is it really possible that the pompous fat man hasn't realized what she is doing there? Or perhaps he is secretly approving, closing an eye in the hope of sharing her possible glory? Furious, he thinks that he must stop this insane project. She can't risk her life in this research!

But now she is talking again in this new, stubborn tone, and he listens more and more impatiently, tapping his fingers on the rock to express his irritation.

"I have read it thoroughly. It has been a horrible experience" – her voice breaks for a moment – "but I think I have found something."

Suddenly, his heart stops and his ears open avidly. She has been the best and the cleverest student of the last generation. What if she has really found… a cure? Her voice goes on hypnotizing, while he holds his breath.

"There is a potion called Regeneratium. The book says that those hit by a dark spell can be used as catalysts to prepare a remedy. Of course, there is an immense risk implicit in the therapy, not exactly in brewing of the potion, but in the use of a… well, of human material. This is why the potion works better when the catalyst is a powerful witch or wizard, whose qualities will reinforce the mixture and possibly grant a survival. However, when many persons have undergone a dark curse, the sacrifice of one of them could result in salvation for the others."

His face hardens like a stone, while she continues slowly.

"Now: we both have been hit, and we both are the only ones who have the skills and, above all, the physical strength to try."

He feels her hesitate, as if mustering all her courage. Then she asks firmly, "Would you agree to participate in preparing this potion, Professor?"

He is absolutely livid now.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. I understand perfectly. As the last and most powerful curse that the Dark Lord cast is the one that hit me, as I am certainly superior to you in my skills, but at the same time completely useless as a potion master because of my blindness, let us at least employ me as an ingredient. Is this your idea? IS THIS?" he asks in a growing fury.

There is something terribly hurtful in discovering that she has been using him, that her concern has been just a trick… So, her answer comes really unexpected.

"Actually not, professor. You are the one to prepare the potion. I will be your eyes… and the catalyst."

**Hermione**

The girl is trembling in fear now, but she cannot draw back. The sacrifice must be completed. Unconsciously, she straightens her shoulders. Tears, invisible to him, suddenly flow and mix to her words.

This is the only part that she hasn't revealed to Ron, afraid of his terrified reaction and consequent probable refusal of her plan. Yet, she can't allow Professor Snape to undergo this risk: his competence is vital, and his knowledge of the Dark Arts invaluable. And she can't ask Professor Slughorn either; it would not be fair, and she sadly knows that he would refuse in panic.

Severus looks at her with his sightless eyes. For once in his life, he is totally speechless. She smiles a tremulous smile, placing a warm little hand on his hand.

"If I don't survive, you will try again. For the sake of yourself. For the sake of Professor Lupin. And for the sake of Ronald Weasley. Do I have your promise?"

His hand turns over and closes around hers in mute compliance.


	18. The many faces of darkness

**A Matter of Will**

_by Lady Memory_

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer**__: I obviously don't own any one of the recognizable characters in this story, even if I would like to._

**IMPORTANT MESSAGE:** Hello to everybody!

As promised, I am back to conclude this story in the best possible way after a hiatus of three years, the time needed to complete my other story, Second Chance.

I would like to thank all those of you who have been waiting patiently for this new instalment. I couldn't blame you, if you had decided to renounce in the meantime. But I can promise you to do my best to end this novel in a reasonable time.

I know that, after the release of Deathly Hallows Part 2 – the movie, this story has become more than terribly AU, but I hope it may still have a sense in this universe of fantasy.

As always, heartfelt thanks to my wonderful previewers **Duj** and **Tearsofphoenix** and to my fabulous beta **Angelicanight** for their kind revision, useful suggestions and infinite patience.

All my sincere thanks to those reading and reviewing.

And thanks to all of my old readers who will leave me a message to let me know they are still here.

I'll be happy to hear from you :)

_**A summary of what happened till now (don't forget this is a post HBP AU story, NOT DH compliant):**_

_Blinded by a ferocious curse cast by the dying Dark Lord in the last battle, Severus Snape has spent a few months in St. Mungo's under the dedicated care of Poppy Pomfrey, who had helped him cope with his illness. Along with Severus, other people had been wounded by the Dark Lord: Hermione Granger, who has been horribly disfigured, Ron Weasley, who is prisoner of a body that is slowly stiffening in a mortal hold, and Remus Lupin, who has been paralysed. _

_While in the hospital, Severus has met Scrimgeour, who after a violent skirmish has allowed him to go back to Hogwarts under Headmistress Minerva McGonagall's supervision. And Harry Potter, with whom he has begun to create a relationship._

_In Hogwarts, Severus has talked with Dumbledore's portrait, in the vain hope of receiving help. And he has faced a mortal danger: the Dark Lord seems not to have been completely destroyed._

_In the previous chapter, Severus has a vision in which his fears are all condensed and he is rescued by Hermione. The girl tells him that she has discovered an ancient book of dark spells which contains a potion called Regeneratium that may help all of them to regain their health. But under a terrible condition: it may cost the life of one of those preparing it. Hermione has offered herself._

**Chapter 17 – The many faces of darkness**

Morning. Darkness. The usual trip around his private space to wash and dress. The insufferably compassionate tone of his house-elf. And, above all, that increasing, powerful, uncontrollable agitation. Severus Snape is in his rooms, waiting nervously for a visitor. With his blind eyes, he cannot see the many ingenious devices the Headmistress and his fellow professors have disseminated to protect him against his mysterious enemy. And perhaps it's better, as the thought always infuriates him because he feels he is doubly a prisoner: of his blindness, and of the good will of his companions.

Yet today something seems to have changed. He has spent most part of the night thinking about Miss Granger's plan and feeding his brain with endless considerations. What he had initially considered as an inconceivable risk has now become the most appealing of missions, no matter how dangerous it may be. After all, how many times has he risked his life?

But - and that's where the big change is - this time his life won't be at stake… this time Miss Granger has volunteered to substitute him, and her offer was the only possible solution. So, why does he feel so uncomfortable about it?

His thoughts focus on the girl. How cunningly she tricked the two so much older witches, and yet she told them the very truth! Severus unconsciously nods in appreciation. He had always been sure that the mind behind Potter and Weasley's plans had to be hers! And now she is going to repay him for all the humiliation and damage her reckless behaviour has inflicted upon him. A fair exchange, Dumbledore would say…

Severus shakes his head in irritation and massages his ineffective eyes. Remembering Albus always has a negative effect on his spirit. Instead, he decides to think of how well she played her part.

"_Professor McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey" she announced that evening, bringing a silent Severus inside the castle. "I believe Professor Snape had a nightmare. A horrible one."_

_The two women reacted according to their character: Poppy hurrying to check him and ask him questions, acting with such worried agitation that he had replied angrily, furious at being treated like a child. But it was understandable: of course, she was feeling guilty. The protective spells hadn't worked, and he could very well perceive how upset the mediwitch was._

_Minerva behaved with greater composure, inviting Hermione to tell her exactly what had happened. The girl obeyed, and Severus listened in respectful amazement to her account. In her words, even though she was telling exactly the facts, everything seemed to become simple and harmless, even to the very person who had undergone such a frightening situation._

"_You see," Hermione concluded, "when I saw Professor Snape falling to the ground, I thought he was in danger, something similar to what happened the evening of the banquet. But I checked the place immediately after. There was no sign of magic, nothing that showed that an evil presence had been there. Professor Snape was dizzy and confused, just like awakening after a nightmare. And the most reassuring proof is that Madam Pomfrey's protective spells didn't activate themselves and they certainly would, in case of a magical enemy! So, I think that, luckily, this time professor Snape experienced only a bad dream while sleeping on that uncomfortable rocky seat."_

_She tightened his hand as she said this, and Severus was silenced by her grip. The two women exchanged more comments with the girl and then asked him cautious questions. Poppy seemed a bit offended, and her inquiries, in particular, sounded coldly professional for a while, as if she were trying to force him to admit his vulnerability._

_But he had been even more cold and rational in his answers and, in the end, the two witches were definitely convinced. Then Miss Granger declared in an innocent tone, "I believe that Professor Snape needs something to keep him busy. I would be glad to have him as a tutor in my research. If he agrees, and if Madam Pomfrey thinks it is acceptable, we could even think of starting tomorrow. I have a project going on right now that would greatly benefit from Professor Snape's presence."_

_He could perceive electricity vibrate in the room at that announcement. For a moment, he held his breath, ready for a disappointment and a consequent struggle. Then he felt an immense relief expanding in wide circles, and the enthusiastic approval of the two women warmed his heart._

_... ... ...  
_

Now Severus is getting anxious. He sits in his armchair, unconsciously replicating his habitual routine in the hospital. The walking cane is lying against the armrest and his hand plays incessantly with its round metallic head.

A knock at the door, and he immediately gets up. But the elf has been quicker, as always – how exasperating the little creature can be! – and Severus hears him saying, "Good morning, Professor Granger, Erlin is happy to see you!"

He holds his breath, while a nice but slurred voice answers, "Thank you, Erlin. Is Professor Snape ready?"

"He has been waiting for you since the very first hours of the morning." The elf is evidently proud of his master and Severus feels irritation and embarrassment mount his face. He moves towards the door.

"Miss Granger," he calls, hoping to interrupt the conversation and make his overeager servant refrain from adding other considerations.

" Professor Snape," she answers warmly but with a bit of concern, "I'm sorry you waited for so long; I thought the appointment was-"

"Don't worry, Miss, my Master doesn't sleep much these days," the serviceable elf hastens to comfort the girl, and Severus clenches his fists, trying to check the sharp words that were trying to escape. She must not notice his anger.

"No need to apologise, Miss Granger," he therefore answers calmly. "I am used to getting up early. I assume we are going to the dungeons now?"

"Yes, Professor. But please, if you don't mind… your hand," she says in evident unease.

"I have my cane, Miss Granger," he immediately rebels.

"I would prefer to lead you," she says. A pause. Then she whisper hurriedly, "I… we will use a special shortcut, and the stones of the floor are in a very ruined state, so it could be dangerous for you."

"A shortcut? Why?"

"I… well, I would prefer not to be seen."

"What's the need of all this secrecy?"

"My face" she surrenders. "The transfiguration spell is not working anymore. I would like to speak to Madam Pomfrey, but she is too busy now, the students are everywhere and… I would prefer not be seen," she almost pleads.

"How could the spell not work anymore? Are you sure you cast it properly?" He would like to help her, but how, without a wand?

"I did. However, if I may say, this is not the right moment to discuss the problem. Let's first reach the dungeons. Would you prefer coming with me or going alone? If so, I'll wait for you downstairs."

Time for a breath, then he offers his hand. "I'll go with you."

She clasps his fingers and he stiffens in anticipation, hoping to feel a blissful flux run again in his veins. But nothing happens and, disillusioned, he follows the girl.

_... ... ..._

The shortcut reveals itself to be actually a difficult walk. Once more, Severus is forced to face the limits his blindness imposes on him every time he abandons a well-known path for a new one; he feels frustration grow in his chest at being guided by her like a child. And yet, how comfortable and secure her grip is!

She reminds him of Poppy: same confident strength, same warm voice when she tells him to slow down or to change direction. Soon he forgets his irritation while he plunges again into meditation. How is Miss Granger going to handle her difficult task? Will he be able to help her? Should they be allowed to hope again?

And then more subtly disquieting questions rise uncomfortably: how will they deal with the dangerousness of the plan? Has he been too hurried to accept such risky project? Is the desperate situation of those who have survived Voldemort's wrath worth such a terrible challenge? And finally, can he really accept her sacrifice?

He shakes his head, engaged in a mute dialog with his conscience, unaware of the concerned glances his companion is silently casting him. The book is the big dilemma, and he wishes he could examine it in a better way than just by holding it in his hands. If only he could use his own eyes for a moment…

Her voice unexpectedly breaks the silence and his train of thought.

"Here we are, Professor."

_... ... ..._

The door opens with an irritating squeak, and Severus is surrounded by the familiar smells of the ingredients stored in his lab. His first reaction is an acute nostalgia. Till now, he has always refrained from entering the rooms hidden in the castle's underbelly: the mere idea was stirring a storm in his heart. His inability to handle what he could manage so easily just a few months before was upsetting him too deeply.

Lost in his unpleasant considerations, he follows his guide, listening half-distractedly to what she is saying.

"We can begin to study the Regeneratium potion this morning, if you like. Yesterday, after dinner, I took the book and brought it here, disguising it amongst the other volumes… I hope Madam Pince won't discover it. I thought that this is the safest place in Hogwarts after the-"

Suddenly Severus realises what she is talking about. He stiffens and tightens her hand so strongly that he almost hurts her. Taken by surprise, Hermione lets out a soft cry, while he enquires sharply, "You brought THAT book out of the library and left it here unattended? Are you out of your mind, Miss Granger? Do you realise how dangerous it is, you silly child?"

"I've locked the door with a spell of my invention!" the girl bursts out in an offended tone, tugging her hand free from his grip. "I would have been informed immediately if somebody had tried to enter… and nobody did," she states coldly.

A challenging pause.

"I'm no longer a child, Professor," she continues, her voice calmer but still hard. "I would be grateful if you could avoid such hateful patronising comments."

"You'll always be a child to me," he replies, a bit irritated, a bit ironic. But also a bit surprised. She never reacted that way with him when he still had his sight. She has effectively changed, and he doesn't know how to behave with her. But she is too much of an important ally to him; so he tries to make amends by saying with a forced smile, "Remember that I'm more than double your age."

"Maybe, but now we are colleagues. If we want to work together, you'd better get used to the idea."

The wizard is instantly ruffled. "Why, do you think you'd be able to manage such a task by yourself? Don't forget you were only a student just a few months ago… Granger," he concludes, underlining her name with a meaningful intonation.

"I haven't forgotten it… Severus," she replies, and he can feel a hint of mischief in her voice: despite her anguishing situation, she is enjoying their skirmish, and the thought is so astounding that he can't find an answer immediately. And then it's too late, because she puts a hand on his hand, and the touch definitely silences him. This time there is something new: all at once, the atmosphere has changed.

"The book is on the table in front of you," she whispers.

A pause. He waits, trying to decode the emotion in her voice.

"It's… it's open," she continues in a murmur. "But I didn't leave it open yesterday, and nobody was here after I left, I'm sure."

He is still processing her information, so he doesn't reply and the gentle pressure on his hand increases, as she questions, "Do you think that it could be able to move… by itself?"

Her side brushes against his now, as if looking for reassurance, her freshly found boldness turned into apprehension. He feels a flux of surprising energy whirling around him, but also something creepy, something waiting to strike.

And then the unexpected happens.

A soft breath of air mixes with words.

"_Domine…_"

Hermione let's out a cry and tightens his arm.

"The book!" she whispers. "The book is flipping its pages to speak!"

The sound is unmistakably coming from the indefinite space before him, and a puff of mouldy smell suddenly tickles his nostrils. He hears the pages turn rapidly, while the same eerie voice repeats, "_Servus tuus, domine…_"

"The book is talking to you!" Hermione exhales, and he perceives accusation in her tone. Though he feels irritated at that lack of trust, a new stream of energy now ripples down his spine. Perhaps there is a possibility that they will succeed in their attempt

"Speak to me, my servant," Severus commands, and words seem to rise from unfathomable depths inside him. "Show me your secrets."

"_Your servant, master, and enemy of your enemies,_" the book declares and stops its flipping, laying obediently inert.

"It spoke… It replied to you… It's a live being!" Hermione turns to look at him, forgetting that he can't see.

"Don't be silly! It's only a magical device," he replies in irritation, but feeling very uneasy. "It reacts to established formulas."

"And you, how did you know the right words?" Hermione sounds curious, yet Severus understands that she is still diffident. But he feels a new power run in his veins, an inebriating sensation that urges him to go on. It's difficult to resist: those emotions are too compelling, and he is ashamed, as he feels like he is deceiving her.

Instinctively, he snorts in exasperation. "What's this, an interrogation? A third degree? What did I tell you just five minutes ago? You are only a child while I…"

Ah! He has found the way to circumvent her doubts. He stops, as if he was struggling against himself, then ends in a whisper, "While I have been raised in Dark Magic."

Her face alters with regret. Impulsively, she puts her hand on his hand.

"I'm sorry."

His lips tighten to conceal his satisfaction, but this feeling is somehow spoiled by the sincerity of her contrition. She is so easy to trick… Severus sighs. She is clever, determined and brave. But she is only a child, and her heart is still tender.

"I will find the potion and read it for you," Hermione declares in the meantime, and her tone makes these words sound like a sort of apology for her previous blunt behaviour.

The moment has arrived, and he is suddenly afraid. They are effectively starting something that could become very dangerous. His hand finds hers again while he calls, "Miss Granger…"

"Yes?" the girl watches him in surprise.

"Pay attention." His voice is hoarse. "Please, pay attention, as I can't… I can't…"

His head drops for a moment. How painful that admission of helplessness is, though incomplete.

"I'll be careful," she reassures him. Slowly, she turns the old, consumed pages made by wrinkled parchment, until she finds the name of the potion.

"Here it is," she states exultantly, and gently places her hand on the text to smooth it and read it better. Suddenly the book closes itself with a sharp bang, pressing her fingers like a clamp. The shock is great, and Hermione cries out in painful surprise.

"What's happening?" Severus is instantly near her, guided by her voice. Blindly, he stretches his arm until his hand touches the girl and, following her arm, it reaches the table and the book. As soon as his fingers brush the cover, the book shivers, and its distorted voice warns again, "_Enemy, master!"_

"Let her go!" Severus roars.

"_Enemy_," the book repeats inflexibly.

"Obey your master!" The wizard commands, and, reluctantly, the book seems to cede, laying inert again.

"Read me the spell," Severus orders the girl, and his tone lets her clearly understand that he fears other traps inside the pages.

More frightened by his expression than by the reactions of the book, Hermione hastens to decipher the ancient text, written in half cancelled letters.

"_Focum incende ac opus incipit_," she hesitantly reads, then suddenly stops with a cry of consternation. "The words! The lines are changing!"

The book has evidently found another way to trick its reader, and Severus touches its cover again, ordering with his most dreadful tone, "I said: obey me!"

"_Noli aquam ponere antes_", Hermione tries desperately to catch the phrases, but they keep changing continuously until she stops with a sob.

"No, no, NO! They keep moving. We can't make it this way! We can't!"

She tries to force the book to stay open, struggling against its convulsions, but soon she is obliged to let it go to avoid its breakage. Frustration makes her voice tremble with rage while she asks Severus, "What shall we do, now?"

Severus's face looks like it's carved in granite. His expression is so furious that the girl backs off for a moment.

"Give me that book!" he commands, and she hurries to put the volume in his hands. It's heavy, and big, and somewhat warm. Severus has the impression of holding a living creature in his arms. He frowns, trying to find the right words.

"Speak to me, my servant! Reveal your formulas, I command thee!"

"_Secrets can't be spoken. It's the rule."_

The book seems to malignantly enjoy their frustration, and Severus checks the impulse of throwing the demonic object in the fire. Then he remembers.

"How is this possible?" he accuses the girl. "Yesterday you told me that you had read it!"

"Not exactly," she admits. "I'd read an ancient but more recent copy, an English translation that didn't include the original potions…" she watches his face and words die in her throat.

"It was easier to consult…" she whispers, lowering her head before him, though he cannot see her contrite gesture. "I don't know Latin. And I was running out of time. Ron is getting worse every day."

She is crying openly now, but her immense desperation doesn't soften his stinging disenchantment.

"It has all been useless…" he declares bitterly. "You aren't allowed to read these pages, and I cannot."

He shakes his head, trying to imagine a way, a spell, a gesture that may force the book to disclose its secrets. It's a matter of will, and his will has never been more urged. Hermione wipes her tears and sniffles, trying to recompose herself.

"Stop crying!" he snaps. "Use your eyes for something more effective. See if there is an-"

A light knock makes them startle in panic.

"Hermione," a muffled male voice calls from outside. "Hermione, are you there?"

"Harry!" the girl reacts, half-surprised, half-worried.

"Potter!" Furious for this inopportune arrival, Severus tightens his fingers around the book as if tightening Harry's neck.

"Why does he always…" he bursts out, then he lowers his tone and hands the volume to the void where presumably Hermione is, whispering a command. "Hide the book before letting him in!"

The girl takes the hateful load with a grimace. "Just a moment, Harry," she replies with a voice controlled again, while she places the book in a drawer, closing it with a thud.

In the meantime, Harry keeps speaking from outside.

"Sorry to interrupt; Erlin told me that you were here with Professor Snape. I have a message for you, Hermione."

The door opens and Harry stifles a gasp, backing instinctively. Suddenly Hermione remembers: the Transfiguration spell is not working anymore, and her friend has been taken aback.

"Sorry…" Ashamed, she lowers her head with an embarrassed expression. Wordlessly, a remorseful Harry hugs her tightly.

"It's all right, Hermione," he whispers. "It's all right, I'll fix it for you."

"Potter!" Snape roars, only to trail off in resentment at being so unconcernedly ignored.

"Professor Snape," Harry replies, without really paying attention to the irritated man in front of him. Gently, he raises his wand with a meaningful smile.

Hermione widens her eyes under the spell, then, not having a mirror, she whirls to look at her reflection in the glass jars lined on the shelf behind her. In spite of the viscid and disgusting specimens floating in their liquids, the sight she is able to enjoy is something delightful. Her real features have been restored, and she hugs her friend with a sob of joy.

"Oh, Harry, thank you! Thank you so much!" she exclaims gratefully, kissing him on his cheek.

"Potter, would-you-be-so-kind-as-to-tell-me-what-you-are-doing-here?" an irritated voice explodes at their shoulders.

"I was just going to ask you the same question," Harry replies imperturbably, but to his amazement Hermione places a hand on Snape's arm.

"My face," she explains to the older wizard, with a confidence that doesn't go unnoticed to the boy, "Harry cast the Transfiguration spell, and this time it worked properly."

In spite of the comforting warm contact, Severus lowers his head and represses a sigh of frustration. Absorbed as he was in the book and in its riddles, he had forgotten about Hermione's distorted features. Again, he feels a deep desolation inside. He had not even been allowed to try! And yet this time he would have liked so much to be of help, to show the girl that he too… Ah, what a silly presumption! He is only an invalid, with no wand and no power, and yet still replenished by dark magic. Even the book had been able to recognise it…

A stubborn resentment towards the boy now mounts in his chest. Potter, Potter, Potter! Always Potter! He tries to conceal his disappointment, but the two youngsters can easily see his lips tighten in an act of will. They exchange a worried glance.

"So," Harry asks nervously, as the situation raise memories that bring him back to his school days, "how are things going here?"

Severus is tempted to give him a sharp reply, but Hermione, still keeping her hand on his arm as if controlling him, says happily, "Oh, professor Snape has been so kind as to offer to tutor me himself in my research. You know, testing potions and similar other boring tasks…"

Severus suddenly feels happy. The girl is not betraying their secret. They have a link that not even Potter knows, though he is her best friend. Again, the thought fills him with a weird satisfaction, reversing his previous feelings.

So, his voice is intolerably smug when he answers, nodding in blind acknowledgement at his old adversary, "Nothing that may interest you, Potter, unless you have developed unsuspected skills."

Ah, poor Severus! He should have avoided such a display of arrogance. As if awakened by that remark, the creepy eerie voice speaks again, barely audible from its hiding place.

"_Master…"_

Harry furrows his brows. Hermione is aghast. Severus clenches his fists, stifling an exclamation. But this time, he is also frightened. The book is not addressing him, he can perceive it perfectly: the book is addressing Potter, as if accepting his authority.

_... ... ..._

Silence. An immense, supernatural silence, while the three actors in the scene gather and reorganise their thoughts. Then Harry declares coldly, "I think you owe me an explanation".

Severus opens his mouth, but Hermione is quicker.

"It's only a experiment, Harry," she replies in an ever colder, inflexible voice. "Please don't ask."

The boy hardens his tone. "And why shouldn't I ask?"

Silence falls again. Harry smiles bitterly. "We are friends, Hermione. We have always trusted and relied on each other. Should I assume that you don't trust me anymore?"

Severus clenches his fists even more and holds his breath. He can't intervene. The matter of their friendship is going to destroy everything. The girl won't be able to resist such a plea. And, in fact, Hermione lets out a little sob, hastening to reassure the boy. "Oh, Harry! That will never happen! You know how much you mean to me!"

Then, unexpectedly, her voice changes again. "But this time it's different. Please, Harry, trust me! I'll tell you everything… but not now!"

Harry casts a sharp glance at Hermione, then raises a finger to indicate the man patiently waiting in surprising silence near her.

"It's about…?" Harry whispers.

Hermione returns his gaze for a long moment, then nods quietly. Harry's features change in the meditative air of those who have been offered a solution that has still to be interpreted. He takes a deep breath.

"It's okay, then," he murmurs, while his eyes keep questioning hers. Then he seems to definitely surrender.

"I have come to tell you that everything is ready," he says softly.

The girl brightens. Snape can feel her inner emotion: her hand relaxes then tightens its grip on his arm while he silently wonders what's happening and what's the meaning of those strange words. But, as always, he is left in the dark.


	19. When we feel alone

**A Matter of Will**

_by Lady Memory_

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer**: I obviously don't own any one of the recognizable characters in this story, even if I would like to._

_As always, heartfelt thanks to my wonderful previewers **Duj** and **Tearsofphoenix** and to my fabulous beta **Angelicanight** for their kind revision, useful suggestions and infinite patience. _

_All my sincere thanks to those reading and reviewing._

_**WARNING: **due to the long time passing between each update, I feel it's better to remind my readers that **this is an AU story, HBP compliant.** Everything we discovered in book 7 doesn't exist here, Snape's love for Lily included (thankfully)._

**...  
**

**Chapter 18 – When we feel alone**

The evening has arrived, as always undetectable to Severus who lives in a perpetual night. But this time, the keener senses he has developed advise him that it's the right moment. Reluctantly, he gets up from the armchair and begins to walk slowly.

Two hours spent in meditation haven't solved his doubts or cleared his mind. The recent events are troubling him deeply and, surprisingly, there is something new and extremely bitter mixing with his worries.

_Potter_…

Potter, who has revealed dark powers that very morning. Not so unexpectedly, the wizard considers for the hundredth time, because the boy has always had a link with the One-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named. The Dark Lord. Voldemort. Could the spirit behind those labels still be alive and reincarnated into a new essence, blended to another living body?

The thought is devastating. Has Harry Potter become the receptacle of a malignant power? The son of Lily Evans, the bridge between the two existences that Severus led, the student whom Severus disliked for so many years and who ended by being Severus' defender in the dungeons… Could such a boy hide a monster inside his heart, a fiend waiting to strike and punish his former professor?

And yet… And yet, why not? Why not, considering what Severus did?

The wizard pauses in his walk and raises his unseeing eyes as if questioning the void, uncaring of those who may possibly surround him. Revealing the prophecy has been the greatest of his mistakes and still is the biggest of his regrets. Those words so incautiously and so proudly reported have started an uninterrupted sequence of more and more atrocious events. Every new day reminds Severus that his chains haven't been broken and perhaps they never will: the evil awakened by the prophecy seems to have never lost its power, but to have only transmuted its form.

Ah, if only he could go back and undo what he had done! But not even a Time Turner could make people return from the realm of the dead…

Severus is lost again in tormenting reflections, and pain is now clearly visible on his face, as he doesn't care to control his features any longer. The invisible presences of the people inhabiting the castle have been cancelled by his anguish, and he blindly follows the path that he knows best, the one that leads to the office that once was Albus', then became his own and now is Minerva's.

A low growl stops Severus when he reaches the stairs. The gargoyle respects his limitation and advises him; automatically, the wizard murmurs the password and continues his walking, immersed in his meditation.

_Potter_, he keeps repeating in his mind, and he doesn't understand what his feelings really conceal: irritation? Fear? Revulsion? Or perhaps disappointment? Regret? Even sorrow?

"Severus!" Minerva greets him, furrowing her brow in concern at his devastated expression. But her prudence has improved in the days she has spent with him, so her tone doesn't reveal her alarm.

"I'm glad for this little break," she instead continues lightly, scrutinising him carefully and preparing herself. "How is the project going on?"

With a pang, he realises that she is speaking of the supposed "Granger Project", as Poppy christened it, and a bitter smile shapes his lips. If only Minerva knew... A professor helping his former student to perform a potentially suicidal spell, and an evil book refusing to cooperate. Isn't that unbelievable? Should he thank the dark tome for having stopped that hopeless attempt?

He takes a deep intake of breath and shakes his head, while Minerva watches him with attentive eyes.

"The project…" he begins hesitantly, then he recovers his lucidity. To hell the project! As soon as his conversation with Minerva is over, he will go down and speak to Granger and use all his authority to forbid her to carry on with her plan. No, even better, he will withdraw his help and, without his help, even that stubborn girl won't be able to do anything. She will be saved in spite of herself. Surely there will be other methods to try! There is St. Mungo's after all. How could he have been so foolish as to believe that a blind man and a mere ex-student could find a solution by themselves? It is not a matter of will but only a matter of time. They just need calmness and patience and…

And, in the meantime, Ronald Weasley will die.

Severus clenches his fists while a wave of pain runs through his body; his face alters and a sobbing gasp of desperation escapes his lips. No. No. NO! There is no solution! The girl is going to be lost in any case. And he can't do anything! Pitiful, miserable, pathetic, useless wreck…

"Severus?"

Minerva. _Minerva_… Damn his blindness, he has forgotten that she is here! The witch puts a hand on his shoulder. Her voice sounds worried now. "What happened? Are you feeling bad? Please, Severus, speak to me!"

He lets out a trembling sigh. The woman's voice grows softer. "Is there anything wrong? Please tell me. I am here to help."

Minerva probably thinks that it's only a problem of incompatibility between partners, Severus realises. But he has come there to talk; so, finally, the words come out, low and harsh.

"Potter, Minerva. I think the Dark Lord's spirit has found a new body to inhabit."

...

The old woman stiffens. The hand on Severus's shoulder trembles and tightens spasmodically before releasing its grip. Then she murmurs, "How do you know?"

Severus is aghast. How can he explain? He cannot betray Miss Granger, and he cannot reveal that he has been ready to join a project that envisaged the death of a student. He feels trapped, and a sort of quiet desperation fills his heart.

"I can't explain, Minerva," he replies briefly. "But don't forget who I am and how I have lived."

He can perceive her anxiety. She would like to question, to doubt, to force him to give more explanations… but, at the same time, his words have reminded her of her past mistakes, of her former mistrust towards her wounded colleague. These considerations cut the wings of her inquisitiveness and leave room only for new terrifying scenarios.

He hears her sigh deeply and, though he can't see her, he can guess what she is doing. She has closed her eyes, experiencing his same feelings of blindness and helplessness… But her hesitation only lasts for a moment. She straightens herself fiercely.

"We must act immediately."

...

Severus is back in his rooms. It's night. He has had dinner in the Great Hall and there he has also exchanged some quick words with Miss Granger, just to check if anything else has happened and if the book is still safely closed in a drawer. The girl sounds strangely animated, even joyous. Why? Does she know something that he doesn't? He doesn't have the nerve to ask.

Potter too has come to wish him goodnight, and Severus has struggled to remain impassive. So many emotions are vibrating in his chest, and he knows that Potter has extremely refined senses now… Can the boy perceive the older wizard's inner agitation? Has Severus involuntarily alerted the evil presence hidden in the boy's body?

Now it's clear how Potter was able to control Severus in the hospital! The wizard remembers that first unhappy meeting and how the boy succeeded in eliciting a terrifying reaction from his old Professor. How angry Severus had felt that morning! But also how vulnerable…

And how did Potter gain such a tremendous power? When did it happen?

For the first time after the months in which he had confined those images to the remotest part of his mind, Severus dares remember Voldemort's last moments. Once more he relives the Dark Lord's ineffective fight against the spectral hands in the dungeons, and once more he sees Potter look at that useless struggle, arms crossed and lips curled with a disdainful smile.

Did the boy absorb his enemy's power in that supreme moment? Did his spirit accept the dark offer of Voldemort's departing soul?

The wizard loses himself in those terrible images until he suddenly remembers the pain on the boy's features and the unexpectedly compassionate expression with which Harry had looked at Severus, as if in a goodbye, before the Dark Lord's spell obscured the world, petrifying his treacherous servant's eyes.

There is something desperately heartbreaking in those memories, and tears try to force their way out under Severus' eyelids. But, as always, this soothing consolation is forbidden to him, and he bends in his armchair, shaken by dry, helpless sobs.

...

_Lupin_, Severus thinks the morning after. He needs to visit Lupin. He has never considered that idea before, though he knows that, like him, his old schoolmate has found a shelter in the castle. His last memory of Lupin is of a body lying in the mud, wriggling under the Dark Lord's furious reaction. Foolish man, challenging such a powerful antagonist… and yet, by reaching Potter in the dungeons, the werewolf had tried to help Severus. But Severus had returned this help immediately after, hadn't he?

He frowns in the effort of remembering what happened and, with a shiver, he relives the burning pain of the Dark Lord's hexes, the smell of mould and fear, his hopeless attempt to protect the fallen Lupin. But, as with the Weasley boy, he had evidently failed…

How many victims the battle exacted! Ronald Weasley. Remus Lupin. Without the potion, they could both be dead soon. Hermione Granger instead would probably survive, but stuck forever with horribly disfigured features, condemned to perpetual disguise. So… so, there is no escape. Their only hope resides in the potion. Again, Severus clenches his fists. The destinies of so many people seem to be always on his shoulders. And he feels more and more exhausted by a task that exceeds his actual capacities.

...

Lupin's rooms are in an independent, silent part of the castle, conveniently isolated from the turbulent activities of the school. The man doesn't need to be reminded that life still goes on joyously while he languishes in a bed, more and more drained every day.

Not even Peeves dares to intrude there, as powerful charms shield it inviolably from every living being or ectoplasm; but Severus has asked Poppy's permission to go, and the Mediwitch has immediately agreed, pleased to hear that he wants to visit his old schoolmate. _Perhaps she wouldn't be so eager if she knew the real reason for this decision_, Severus coldly reflects as he walks.

After all those years, Lupin is still a mystery to Severus: his reactions are disconcerting, his relationship with Tonks puzzling. The girl is a lovely one, in spite of her tremendously clumsy behaviour, and half of her ancestors come from a proud, ancient family. Couldn't she find somebody better than a reject? What strange chemical reaction forced these two so different beings to stay together? She must love him a lot though. Otherwise, she would have left him, now that he is in such a terrible condition. Lucky Lupin, cherished so much in spite of his imperfections…

Lost in his unpleasant reflections, Severus blindly follows the rhythmical movements of his cane as it leads him towards the secluded part of the castle. More thoughts add their burden to the previous ones.

After his revelations, Minerva has immediately organised a new squad, an even more restricted selection of people that are supposed to watch Potter and be always near him, just in case. The wizard shakes his head. Pitiful precautions against such a power, if it should awaken in all its immensity! The only one who has experienced it fully is Severus himself, but he has no suggestions to offer his colleagues. He knows that it would be useless. They never carried the Mark on their skins; they never walked step after step in a land of horror. But now Severus has a plan. He wants to deliberately provoke a reaction from that evil power and challenge it with his new awareness. He hopes to be saved by this clash of forces… or to be finally blessed by a merciful oblivion in death.

Now, Lupin. How can he be inserted in the plan? How can his tragedy help find a solution? Severus doesn't know, but he thinks that every little option should be explored. After all, Lupin is not entirely human (and Severus' heart twitches again at the thought). His body should be much more resistant. There is a dark core in a werewolf, and perhaps… perhaps this characteristic may allow him… to be used as a catalyst for the potion instead of Miss Granger?

Finally Severus has dared to express the thought that has subtly crept into his mind since the morning, and he immediately feels guilty. And yet, what other solutions are possible? If somebody must sacrifice himself for the others, why not the werewolf with his stronger constitution? Why not, Severus keeps repeating feverishly, though he already knows that it's an impracticable option. Nobody must be sacrificed any more. Nobody…

A house elf welcomes Severus and hastens to inform Lupin that a friend - a "_generous, dear friend of yours, Master" _– would like to visit the patient. Severus shivers at the description and waits for a reaction that comes almost immediately.

"A friend?" an astounded voice wearily asks, ending on a disbelieving note.

Severus thins his lips. "It's me, Lupin!" he announces sharply. The voice brings him back to memories that still hurt and unbalance.

"Severus!" Lupin exclaims, and again he sounds puzzled rather than pleased. But he recovers straight away, and now Severus can sense a controlled joy in his tone. "How kind of you to come! Tonks and Hermione had told me that you… that you…"

His voice trails off. Severus has entered the room, and the sight of his stony eyes must have struck Lupin to speechlessness.

The silence is embarrassing, and Severus snorts. Now it's his turn to feel painfully uneasy and, as a result, he attacks.

"I am blind! Is that the word you are looking for?" he asks almost ferociously. "There is no need to be so cautious. It's only a word, and it can't hurt me more than my injured eyes. What about you, instead? You're blabbering even worse now. Are you still able to speak coherently?"

"Always the same bastard," Lupin comments quietly, and there is an oddly amused note in his voice, in spite of his crude words. Severus' so familiar sarcasm is somehow reassuring, and for a moment Lupin smiles at his blind ex-colleague before going on with his answer.

"Yes, I can speak but my legs are gone, and my back is slowly getting rigid… Soon I'll be paralysed, but at least I am alive, and I know that I must thank you for this."

Severus feels even more uncomfortable at that description. Once more, his response is sharp. "There is no need for thanks!"

Patiently, Lupin replies. "You know very well that you deserve it. Please accept my thanks while I have the strength to voice them. Perhaps there won't be another chance in the future."

"No wonder. You have always been ready to give up!" Severus says sharply and stiffens immediately after, he himself surprised by the harshness of his tone.

But Lupin doesn't seem to be offended; he just lowers his head and sighs. "Actually there is something that I'm struggling not to give up and it's hope, the only thing that remains to me. But let's forget pleasantries. What brings you here? I can't believe you came only to see me!"

A shocked silence follows, and Lupin swallows. "Sorry," he corrects himself. "Wrong choice of words."

"No, you are right," Severus replies honestly, then a weird irritation compels him to go on. "You couldn't have said it better. Sincerity at last. The hex has improved you."

Another silence follows, and this time Lupin answers, more bitterly, "I should have known. Well then, why don't you tell me the real reason for your visit?"

But this time Severus doesn't answer. He is busy analysing his so alarmingly altered reactions. Since the very first moment he entered the room, he has experienced an increasing feeling of anger. That inexplicable sensation has slowly enveloped his heart, growing more and more intolerable. There is something wrong. He must leave that room immediately. His mind is trying to think rationally, but his mood is irremediably slipping out of control with every second. And in fact, in spite of his efforts, once more his words sound undeniably contemptuous.

"Forget it. Coming here has been a mistake," he replies, beginning to turn towards the door.

"NO!" Lupin instinctively stretches out a hand, trying to stop his old schoolmate. But Severus is too far for his reach so he lowers his arm, while he keeps speaking with a low and regretful tone. "Aren't we both on the same side, haven't we both been hurt? Why should we always bicker like we did when we were students? Those things belong to the past… Let's finally put an end to those quarrels. Do you blame me for that prank under the Whomping Willow? Or are you still holding a grudge for that afternoon near the lake?"

This last question ends in a whisper, because Severus has paled so intensely as to make Lupin withdraw against his pillow in alarm. And he is right to be alarmed because, when Severus speaks, his sentences come out vibrating in repressed fury.

"How dare you mention these facts so lightly? Were they just a joke for you? Did you ever realise what your harassment cost me? My dignity. My friend. My future. My hopes. You robbed me of everything!" Now Severus is trembling uncontrollably. Memories, sounds, images have filled the darkness, and he feels the emotions rise and clash in his heart.

"I know," Lupin admits with a small voice. "It was inexcusable. But you… you never gave me a chance to make amends. When we were colleagues, I tried to be your friend."

Severus takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but his anger is inexorably building. "Yes. Of course. Lying to me and letting Potter use a map that would have helped us to find those secret entrances that you and your dear friend Black knew so well!"

"No, listen…"

"There is nothing worth listening to!" Severus' rage finally bursts out, becoming more and more passionate. "You lied to me for a whole year! You protected a convict! You neglected to take the potion I had prepared for you! So, not only did you put all our lives at risk, but you allowed Wormtail to escape! The Dark Lord should have given you an award, you spineless idiot! I spent a whole life trying to make amends for my faults only to find somebody even more stupid than me who destroyed all my efforts in a moment!"

Severus doesn't know what is moving him and why he feels such an intense desire to hurt his former schoolmate. Yet he can't stop shouting, while his body seems to catch fire and his mind blazes with different emotions. But finally something chokes his rage. Before he can add another word, his hand is violently tugged, and an indignant tiny voice reproaches him.

"Bad master Snape, mean master Snape, you don't offend good master Lupin!" The elf has evidently watched the conversation and now has intervened. "Cratchy has trusted bad master Snape, but now Cratchy sends him out! Out of here! Out! Out!"

"Cratchy, no, let him stay!" Lupin's voice is imploring, but the elf is determined and keeps repeating "Out! Out! OUT!" while pushing Severus with his unexpectedly strong little hands.

"Goodbye, Lupin," the wizard says bitterly, before being rudely shoved out of the room.

"Severus, Severus, please…"

But the ill man's pleas are silenced by the bang of the door, and once more Severus stands alone in the darkness of an unfamiliar corridor.

...

The return to his quarters soon becomes a never-ending quest. Severus had rarely gone to that part of the castle when he was a teacher, and now his blindness makes that infinite sequence of unknown rooms and passages an infernal labyrinth. There is nothing that can help him find his way, and the magical cane seems to be unable to work properly. But there is something even more worrisome: his previous rage has turned into an unrestrained anguish that unbalances him and urges him to walk, even if he doesn't know where is going, even if every step seems to lead him into a more and more inextricable tangle.

Finally he stops, panting in anxiety. And suddenly, he hears an authoritative voice.

"Sorry, you can't enter here. This is a private quarter!"

Surprised and utterly relieved, the wizard recognises the man who has so opportunely stopped him.

"Arthur!"

"Severus?"

The man seems to be as puzzled as Severus about that unexpected encounter, but his tone is kind as always.

"Why are you wandering in this part of the castle, Severus? Are you lost? You look very tired. Would you like me to help you to your rooms?"

"That would be very kind," Severus replies sincerely. Today more than ever he feels immensely vulnerable and exposed, so he appreciates the friendly assistance that Arthur Weasley offers. Nothing better than a helping hand when you feel alone, and though he never felt a deep sympathy for the red-haired wizard, today Severus is ready to swallow his pride and let Arthur guide him as if Severus were one of his children.

"I'll be glad to be of help," Arthur is saying with his usual paternal manners. "Actually, I was returning to the main hall, so I'd be going your way in any case. You are lucky. I just ended a meeting with a friend; you know, a private conversation. Poor fellow, he needed advice about his troubles with the Ministry. Times change but problems remain… Anyway, I was looking for a quiet place, and Minerva was so kind as to allow me to use this room. But dear me, I always talk too much! You are tired, and you don't need all these details. Just let me close the windows and I'll come with you."

The man keeps speaking in an evident attempt to soothe him, but Severus isn't listening anymore. A sudden uncontrollable fear has enfolded his mind. And finally he focuses. Danger! There is danger approaching, and they must leave the place immediately.

"What's the matter, Severus? You look so pale! Aren't you feeling well? Do you want me to call for a house elf?" Arthur is again near the other wizard, but his worried questions seem to come from a long distance; the blood is roaring inside Severus' ears, muffling every other sound.

"No! No! Let's go immediately!" he almost pleads, feeling his fear turn into terror. He is blind and wandless, and the man near him never had the reputation of being a talented fighter, though he always fought bravely. What would happen if…

"Please!" Severus stretches his arm, searching for Arthur's hand. Where is the special squad that should be watching over him? Where is Miss Granger, his ally? Have they all abandoned him to follow Potter?

A chilling shiver ripples down his spine. _Where is Potter?_

In a deafening silence, he turns his head in slow motion, feeling his mind wander in mid-air as if detached from his body, while the rumble of the blood in his ear increases to unbearable levels.

And then the impossible happens. His eyes seem to open widely in the darkness. There is a subtle light radiating in the distance, a long, thin stripe glowing more and more boldly in the obscurity. Motionless, Severus looks at it in painful fascination, breathing in hope. His sight is back, and for a moment he forgets everything in the absolute bliss of this renewed miracle.

Then the enchantment breaks. "Severus?" Arthur's perplexed, muffled voice slowly calls him from somewhere near him, and Severus suddenly awakens. Danger! Danger! In the end, they haven't been quick enough. The enemy has found them and now Severus must defend the unaware man at his side. But how, when Severus himself is defenceless?

"Beware!" he warns in desperation, moving instinctively towards Arthur.

"Beware?" Arthur's voice replies with a puzzled accent.

"_Beware_?" he slowly repeats again, but this time with a horribly amused tone.

"I'm not the one who must fear, Severus," Arthur says while his voice alters, becoming deep, rasping and creepy, as if coming from unfathomable pits of horror.

Severus chills. He has fallen into a trap. The blade of light in front of him twitches convulsively while a raucous, slow laughter fills the air.

_The monster is not Harry_, Severus realises, frantically trying to overcome the panic that has turned his blood into liquid ice. Then an odd feeling of peace enfolds his senses. In spite of his desperation, the thought is incredibly soothing: the boy is safe!

Now Severus can fight for his own life and he squares his shoulders, repressing the tremors in his body.

"Who are you?" he asks calmly.

"Haven't you guessed, Severus, false friend, disloyal follower, true enemy of your allies?" The voice changes and transforms and distorts itself frightfully, until two voices seem to be speaking together.

One is Arthur's. The other, Severus disconcertingly realises, is Bellatrix's.

"I promised you we would meet again, and the moment has come. Now you are going to pay for your betrayal, Severus. I'll make you scream for mercy."

The light wavers, and Severus understands that it's a wand, a long thin shining rod whose intensity is growing unsustainable. The being whose essence has taken possession of Arthur is not Voldemort, but his most loyal and cruel believer; and now it is going to attack, to hex Severus with all the power of Darkness.

How can he confront this threat? There is simply no hope. But perhaps his sacrifice will finally free the world of that evil presence.

Severus breathes slowly, preparing to die.


	20. Seeing through other eyes

**A Matter of Will**

_by Lady Memory_

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer**: I obviously don't own any one of the recognizable characters in this story, even if I would like to._

_As always, heartfelt thanks to my wonderful previewer **Tearsofphoenix** and to my fabulous betas **Angelicka** and **AmyLouise** for their kind revision, useful suggestions and infinite patience. _

_All my sincere thanks to those reading and reviewing._

_**WARNING**: due to the long time passing between each update, I feel it's better to remind my readers that this is an AU story, HBP compliant. Everything we discovered in book 7 doesn't exist here, Snape's love for Lily included (thankfully)._

**Chapter 19 – Seeing through other eyes**

Seconds tick away in an impressive silence**,** while the two men seem to have changed into statues. Then Severus hears a trembling whisper.

"I can't do this!"

It has been Arthur speaking, but another imperious voice immediately silences him.

_"He is a traitor! He must die!"_

This is Bellatrix, and her voice is even more frightening as it is channelled through the throat of a man.

"You… you killed Charlie… go away!" Arthur gasps, evidently struggling against the entity that possesses him. It's a hard battle, and the luminous rays traced by his wand rise and lower jerkily, following the disconnected movements of the man.

Severus waits in silence, eyes desperately focused on the light dancing in the dark, his previous anxiety changing into a vibrating tension. Fluxes of energy seem to be concentrating in his body and, for the first time in months, he feels his power increasing in deep waves that mount unstoppably. Unable to resist this urging force, his hands begin to shake, his fingertips burn and his lips open while he experiences an exalting euphoria.

Yes! Yes! The moment has come, and who cares if the power flowing across his veins is dark?

"Light!" he commands his eyes and shivers in expectation, intoxicated by those so compelling sensations and forgetting the danger in the hope of seeing again.

"Light!" he then orders more angrily because the darkness isn't yielding to his authority, and as a consequence, his body has started to vibrate achingly.

"Light…" he finally murmurs, realising that nothing has changed and nothing will change in spite of all these powerful signals. Once more, the evil power hosted in his chest has toyed with him just to deceive him even more cruelly. Echoes of a malicious laughter seem to suddenly break the air, as if acknowledging his misery; the soft luminosity of the wand dancing in the darkness twinkles and gradually dims till it disappears with a last flicker.

Severus understands that the dark entity has won its battle. The power flowing so liberally in his body has been called back, and Arthur will strike soon. No, he corrects himself with bitter irony, it's not Arthur, it's Bellatrix: Bellatrix, who has found a way to obtain her vengeance even after death. The wizard feels an obscure anger rise in his chest. The demon inside Arthur won't prevail so easily. Severus waits, his heartbeats pounding slowly in the now absolute silence. It's a matter of will, he repeats while he prepares himself to the hex that will burn his body, it's only a matter of will...

Then something unexpected happens. Soft and small feminine fingers gently wrap around his left wrist while another much more solid hand lies protectively on his right arm. Two guardian angels have suddenly materialised at his side, and though he can't see his helpers, Severus knows who they are.

"Mr. Weasley," he hears Hermione Granger call quietly. But the entity has already acknowledged the presence of the two intruders and focuses on Hermione's silent companion.

"_Harry Potter_!" Bellatrix exults from her hidden place; her triumph is evident. "_Finally, we meet again!"_

Harry seems unconcerned before such frightful threat.

"Mr. Weasley, please…" the boy asks calmly with that still surprising mature tone. "Please give me your wand."

Severus is bewildered. Something deep makes him vibrate in emotion and, amazed, the wizard realises that Harry is releasing his power just as he had done in the dungeons with Voldemort: an immense, indefinite power, so acutely sweet that it's impossible to resist it. Severus loses himself in those incredible sensations, awed before the gift that has been conceded to the boy. How can Potter contain such incredible force, how can he manage to deal with it without being destroyed by its intensity?

In the meantime, Bellatrix's piercing tones fill the air in a progression of madness.

_"Don't defy me, Potter! You are here to die! You fool! Did you really think that Snape was my goal? No, he was only a trick, a ruse to lure you here… and now you have come… predictably arrogant…"_

Reflecting the struggle between the two powers, the entity's words distort and gradually change into a sequence of unintelligible sounds.

"Mr. Weasley, please listen to me," Harry orders with unaltered calm. "Give me the wand. Let me help you."

Arthur flinches violently, as if awakening from a nightmare.

"No… no… Harry… pay attention, Harry… she killed my Charlie… and now… and now I must kill you… No! NO! Go away, go away! Leave me alone!"

The man sounds confused, anguished and imploring at the same time. Severus can only imagine what's happening, but his keen senses tell him that Arthur's movements have become more and more twitchy as he thrashes desperately under the compassionate gazes of the two youngsters. Until, finally, he surrenders.

A low thump, and Severus understand that the man has slumped on his knees.

Silently, Harry leaves Severus and steps forward, bending to remove the wand from the nerveless fingers still clutching it.

"It's ended, Mr. Weasley," he says comfortingly. "She can't hurt you any longer now."

The answer is a burst of sobs; following Harry, Hermione too opens her hand and releases Severus' wrist to kneel near Arthur. Again, the wizard can only imagine what's happening. Has the girl embraced the man or is she simply staying near him? Is she holding his hand as she was doing with Severus just a moment ago? Severus feels alone and strangely jealous; instinctively, he turns his head, expressing all his pain in that simple gesture.

A warm, strong hand is immediately on his arm.

"Let me help you, Professor," Harry says respectfully. Confused, the wizard would like to react, to object, to retort. But a fluid sensation of peace envelops his senses. His tremors subside. His mind feels comforted. Ceding to that gentle emotion, Severus stretches out his hand palm up, as if inviting the boy to clasp it.

"Thank you, Harry," he replies quietly.

… … … … … … … … …

"Bellatrix's wand was keeping Mr. Weasley under a dark influence," Hermione Granger states with her precise tone. "It took me a while to understand it, but yesterday I began to consider the chain of events and saw the connection."

Her voice becomes apologising. "The wand even succeeded in altering my energy. I'm sorry to say that the entity that attacked you in the garden was created by me, Professor. Unwillingly, of course," she hurries to specify.

Severus nods. He still feels so confused! So many feelings whirl in his soul and it's difficult to extract and examine them coherently. Yet one of them is dancing victoriously over the others, and it's an extremely happy sensation of being… _cherished_. The people gathered around him care for him. Even Harry Potter. The feeling is so unusual and so soothing that he can't resist basking in it.

"I would have preferred to be informed, Hermione," the severe voice of Minerva McGonagall now interrupts his train of thoughts.

The meeting is held in the Headmistress office after Arthur has been delivered in the capable hands of Poppy Pomfrey. The mediwitch had previously been called by an agitated house-elf in order to visit the shattered Remus Lupin, so she had arrived greatly annoyed with Severus, guilty of having provoked an intense state of prostration to the unfortunate werewolf with his insensitive behaviour. But her anger had changed into concern as soon as she found out the real reasons behind the episode, and Poppy had insisted that Severus too to be entrusted to her care.

But he had refused. Never has he felt so well, never has he experienced such astonishing sensations and never has he been so eager to know more. In the darkness, his mind tries to reach Harry. The boy is sitting at the other corner of the room, but – incredibly – he seems to feel the mute call.

"Yes, Professor?" he asks quietly, and Severus waves his hand in denial, embarrassed as he feels the blush mount on his cheeks. Even though he can't see Harry, he understands that the boy is smiling, and his mind needs an effort to focus again on the discussion.

"I'm sorry, Headmistress," Hermione is replying with an unperturbed tone that shows that she isn't sorry at all. "When I realised the danger I only had time to call Harry, who, luckily, was around."

_Luckily_? _Those two damn brats were probably already following me,_ Severus thinks. But strangely, the thought doesn't annoy him.

Minerva stiffens. Severus knows her so well that he can almost see her lips tighten.

"And I suppose it was only a fortunate coincidence, wasn't it?" the old woman asks, but the relief in her voice is so perceivable in spite of her stern accent – no more threats for Severus and no more doubts about Harry – that everybody relaxes. A stream of quiet, warm satisfaction fills the air until Hermione enounces calmly, "Of course, there is still the greatest danger."

… … … … … … … … …

Minerva gasps. "What do you mean?"

"Isn't it clear, Minerva?" Severus replies harshly. _That girl! So irritatingly clever! And so unfortunately right! _

He clenches his fists in his usual reaction of frustration. The pieces of that maddening problem have recomposed in his mind after his encounter with Arthur, and the truth is extremely disagreeable.

Hermione turns her head towards him. "Then you know it too, Professor?"

"Miss Granger, your intuitions are admirable," Severus answers bitterly. "Yet I would have preferred if you had discussed them with me. After all, this is a matter that concerns me personally."

Hermione sighs contritely to let him understand that she is sorry. But Minerva is more and more at loss. "What are you saying? Hermione, Severus, please explain yourselves!" she protests feebly.

"My wand, Minerva!" Severus explodes. "My indestructible wand so carefully concealed in St. Mungo's! It has been replenished by the power of the Dark Lord's last curse! As a result, it has connected with Bellatrix's wand and corrupted it!"

"But how? HOW?" the ever more anguished Minerva questions.

Severus clenches his fists again. That memory is still hurtful. His voice becomes low and trenchant.

"Because, when Narcissa and I took the Unbreakable Vow, Bellatrix was our witness. Her wand sealed our Oath and, by doing that, it became indissolubly linked to mine."

"Ah! That's the detail I didn't know!" Hermione can't resist adding a comment, pleased to see that she had guessed the solution anyway.

But Severus is irritated by the satisfaction in her tone and hardens his voice.

"As long as my wand lasts, it's as if the Dark Lord were still alive. His evil power is still free to spread and hurt and torture!"

He is trembling in repressed anguish now; horrified by the frightening scenarios opening to his mind, he tries to put his fears into words.

"Merlin knows when and where it will find a new target, but if somebody should use my wand intentionally to perform any kind of magic, the effect could be devastating! Every moment may-"

"No!" Harry exclaims, and his voice resounds like a thunder.

A stunned silence follows that outburst. Then the boy raises a hand as if he were taking a solemn commitment and says much more calmly, "I will go to St. Mungo's and retrieve your wand, sir. Then I'll destroy it forever!"

Severus slowly raises his head at those words. His blind eyes seem to mutely challenge the boy. Hermione smiles encouragingly at her friend and Harry smiles back before turning again deferentially to Severus. "Under your supervision, of course. I have not forgotten that you were my teacher."

The boy takes a deep breath and concludes, "I hope you will accept becoming my teacher again."

… … … … … … … … …

The night is cold and dark, but Hermione and Harry savour the excitement of a new adventure. Finally something dynamic, something that can make the difference and, above all, that will bring a new hope to the life of so many people… if the scheme they have plotted works, of course!

Harry rehearses again his connection with Snape. In the last two days, the boy and the man have discovered that they can communicate in a way never experienced before. Harry simply must open his mind and let his power gently flow to reach Snape. The process is somehow the reverse of what he had learned in those so hated Occlumency lessons. Instead of closing his mind, he must expand it, stretching it to impossible limits. Harry still can't believe how easy it has become for him.

And Snape… Snape has been an even more incredible surprise. The wizard has agreed to teach him how to control the new ability that Harry didn't know he possessed. The man is still very cautious in his relationship with the boy. The detestation they had been able to build in their previous years at school can't be forgotten so quickly. But there is a new link between them, something that overcomes their feelings and their predictable human reactions, something… something_ supernatural_?

Harry shivers lightly. What happened exactly in the battle of the dungeons? What did Voldemort do? Snape has muttered something about sharing his power… but then why is Harry so powerful when Snape seems to have become an empty shell?

_Stop thinking now_, an internal voice warns him. _You can't know what Snape can extract from your mind_. Their link seems to be made of mental images and wordless inspirations. Yet, sometimes Harry could swear he actually heard sentences forming in his brain…

But there will be time to explore this new gift. Now he needs to focus on his mission.

… … … … … … … … …

In the castle, down in the dungeons, Poppy and Severus are sitting in silence on a couch, both waiting for Harry's call. There is another mute but significant presence in the room: the dark wand of Bellatrix has been placed on a small desk near Severus, at his hand's reach. The wizard wants to be sure that the evil tool is under his control; he doesn't forget the frightening way in which the other wands have reacted when Ollivander tried to supply him with a new one. Yet Bellatrix's wand seems to connect fluidly to his will, though he doesn't dare use it.

Poppy watches her former patient attentively. A long while has passed since she was allowed to stay so close to him, and the reason is due mostly to Severus himself: the more confident he grows, the less he seems to tolerate her attentions. So Poppy has, sadly, conformed to his will. And, though her generous nature forbids her to feel resentment, her kind heart has been aching acutely at his increasingly detached attitude.

But Poppy has always suspected that he isn't really as indifferent as he pretends to be: his face is still the mirror of his soul for the woman who has taught him to live again, and who has learned to love him like the son she never had. Now, in the quietness of his room, the flames in the fireplace tremble and draw shadows on his harsh features, underlining his tension. Seeing how worried he looks, the mediwitch forgets about possible incensed reactions and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.

Startled, Severus stiffens, his brows furrowing alarmingly in irritation; then, acknowledging the feeling under her action, he loosens up and returns her kindness by brushing her hand with his hand for a brief moment. A quick caress, a mute demonstration of the respect and the affection he still feels for that stubborn, strong little woman, who has struggled so much to help him resurrect, but whom he lately seems to have confined in a corner of his mind.

Poppy's eyes are veiled with tears of joy. That gesture proves that he hasn't forgotten. This is enough for the little witch, who feels deeply moved and hastens to wipe her cheek.

But why is Poppy spending the evening with Severus?

The answer is really peculiar: because she hopes to help Hermione and Harry through him. The mediwitch has been informed of the new particular connection that seems to have developed between the two once obstinate adversaries. The boy has grown into a man, while the man has found again a pure spirit of youth. She has been delighted, and when Harry has asked her details about St. Mungo's topography, in order to find their archive, she has been eager to offer her help. The months spent there and her professional reputation have granted her access to every area of the venerable institution. Consequently, she knows where the most secret of their chambers is. Unfortunately, she has never been there. But Harry can't be stopped by such irrelevant details.

… … … … … … … … …

In the quietness of the night, Hermione looks at herself and frowns. When they had decided to enter St. Mungo's in disguise, Madam Pomfrey astoundingly proposed to go with Harry. The plan was immediately discarded for obvious reasons: in spite of her many brilliant characteristics, Poppy Pomfrey is a mature woman who's not accustomed to reacting quickly except in the case of a medical emergency. Though disappointed, the little witch had admitted the truth of those considerations and came up with another disconcerting proposal: she could go there as Hermione Granger. Or even better, Hermione Granger could go there disguised as Poppy Pomfrey.

Hermione immediately agreed. Poppy provided a small bottle of Polyjuice, and the transformation took place a few hours before Harry and Hermione left the castle; the time needed by the Mediwitch to give Hermione several useful hints about how to "interpret" Poppy correctly, how to disengage herself in case of professional questions, how to interact with possible other healers she could meet, and so on.

But Hermione had soon discovered that being Poppy Pomfrey isn't so easy. She feels too short and too heavy. Thankfully, there is still her own essence inside that uncomfortable body, and the girl grins inwardly. The good thing is that Hermione too has already a good knowledge of people and places. Living in St. Mungo's for a few months has obviously offered many chances to know the different nurses and healers. Though she had voluntarily confined herself in a room, nevertheless she had been coming and going in the most private areas of the hospital for her visits and tests before the healers admitted their helplessness in treating her case.

However, becoming Poppy has also offered a comical interlude, and Hermione grins again, remembering the disappointed face of the little witch after the transformation. Poppy had looked at her duplicated self with tightened lips while shaking her head.

"Merlin!" she had finally burst out. "I didn't know I was so… so…"

But she hadn't been able to conclude her sentence because Hermione had embraced her, whispering softly, "Madam Pomfrey, we love you just the way you are!"

The shocking sensation of being hugged by her perfect copy had utterly silenced the little witch. Then she had begun to laugh at the weirdness of the whole situation, and everybody had imitated her. A precious, liberating moment that now sparkles in Hermione's mind, filling her with joy. And more and more joyful reflections are ready to follow. What about Snape? Hasn't he changed astoundingly? And isn't Harry's unexpected power the promise of something decisive?

_A team like theirs cannot fail._ The girl nods determinedly and waits for the signal.

... ... ... ... ...

**A/N:**

_Next chapter is completed and waiting to be revised. See you soon._


	21. Forget about yourself

**A Matter of Will**

_by Lady Memory_

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer**: I obviously don't own any one of the recognizable characters in this story, even if I would like to._

_As always, heartfelt thanks to my wonderful previewer **Tearsofphoenix,** and to my fabulous beta **Angelicka** for her kind revision, useful suggestions and infinite patience.  
All my sincere thanks to those reading and reviewing._

**Chapter 20 – Forget about yourself**

Hermione and Harry walk along the corridors of the hospital. Entering there has been decidedly easy. It's night, and there are just a few people around, all too tired and too busy to notice a mediwitch taking her patient somewhere for a check-up. Harry is admirably composed, but Hermione feels the usual tension rise, though the hospital can't be worse than the majority of the dangerous places they have visited during their school years. And the healers surely can't be as tough as a band of Death Eaters.

So, Hermione keeps walking and whispering greetings, waving her hand when needed. Harry keeps his head lowered in silence. Nobody seems to notice them until they stumble upon a pretty girl dressed in white, clearly a nurse. Her reaction on seeing them is startling.

"Madam Pomfrey!" she cries with an enthusiastic though controlled voice. Evidently, her professional practice has trained her tone but not her impetuosity. In fact, the girl hugs tightly the supposedly older woman and looks at her with eyes that shine with joy. Taken by surprise, Hermione is aghast. That wasn't expected to happen. But then she recognises the other girl: Becky. Becky Ingham. Hermione has met her many times during her stay in the hospital, so she knows that the girl was Madam Pomfrey's assistant and, above all, a loyal friend.

In the meantime, Becky is talking happily. "What an unexpected pleasure! How are you? How is Professor Snape? I have been thinking about you both so many times! Has he improved? Any hope for his sight?"

Hermione and Harry exchange a glance. Hermione feels that they have found an ally but she silently submits her judgment to Harry's approval. Harry and their Hogwarts team, of course. And they don't disappoint her.

"Becky," Harry says quietly, stretching out a hand. The girl widens her eyes. "Harry!" she exclaims, then covers her mouth with an alarmed expression, glancing around to check the place.

"What are you doing here? The hospital is a restricted area," she whispers agitatedly. "I thought that you knew…" she pauses and her expression changes.

"What's happening?" she asks with a calm yet concerned voice.

"We are in a hurry, Becky," Harry replies gently. "We came here to help Professor Snape, but we cannot explain. There is no time, and it's better for you to know nothing."

Her eyes sparkle in determination. "No need to tell me more," the girl exclaims; then she suddenly frowns, looking at the older woman. "But Madam, perhaps you-"

"She is not Madam Pomfrey," Harry interrupts her, and Hermione can't resist any longer. "I'm Hermione Granger, Becky. Do you remember me?"

"Hermione!" The girl's eyes widen even more while she suppresses a gasp. For a moment, she seems to struggle with her curiosity; then her features recover a resolute look.

"How can I help you?" she asks.

… … … … … … … … …

With Becky guiding them through the labyrinth of passages, the chamber of secrets is soon reached. Harry keeps concentrating on the signals in his brain. Snape is sending precise but reassuring directions in the form of emotions. The only moment in which his former professor hesitates is during the encounter with Becky: for a long moment, the connection is interrupted, and Harry is left alone to decide what to do. Then the link reconnects again with a surprisingly strong force. Madam Pomfrey must have intervened, the boy thinks.

Not that Harry had ever had any doubt about Becky. The girl has proved to be an invaluable ally. Without her help, Hermione and Harry would probably be still wandering and wondering in spite of Poppy's help. The most secretive and ancient part of St. Mungo's is located in the foundations, and the passages leading there have been cunningly planned to mislead those who don't know how to read the right directions. But Becky seems to know her stuff, and Harry smiles inwardly. It's very relaxing to have a guide for a change.

… … … … … … … … …

If she could perceive Harry's thoughts, Becky probably wouldn't agree. The last part of their underground trip has been very challenging. The girl had visited the archives just once, at the beginning of her apprenticeship, and only to help a senior healer who hadn't allowed her to enter there anyway. But thankfully, her visual memory is very good, and the actual tension seems to have increased it.

Initially, Becky had been very excited to participate in the adventure. She could not understand why her friends needed so badly to reach the archives, but respecting Harry's request, she didn't ask. Like everybody else in the wizarding world, she knows the many trials Harry and his friends performed before and during the war. She had admired their courage and sometimes even envied them; occasionally, she had also reflected on what she would have done if the chance had been offered to her. Well, now she is directly experiencing it, and her feelings are a confused mix of pride, anxiety and boldness. There is only one thing about which she is certain: her career is going to be ruined if she should be found there. But is there any other solution? No, she replies to herself, so she grits her teeth and keeps walking determinedly.

Finally the chamber is in front of them. Its wooden door has a window that allows them to see what is inside, and the children detect hundreds of dusty cabinets all lined in rows divided by long, dark corridors. Becky scrutinises anxiously the passage from which they have just come, searching for any sign that may reveal the arrival of an intruder. Then, reassured, the girl smiles at her companions, brushing her hair back under the white cap. But Harry and Hermione look at each other. The search is going to be problematic. How to find Snape's wand in that immense archive?

… … … … … … … … …

Severus feels extremely agitated. Till now, his perception has been smooth and clear. Harry's mind has guided his like a beacon on a ship. Impossible to lose the way. Several times, Severus has even been able to see through Harry's eyes as well. Quick impressions of the corridors and of the few people walking in the dim light have flashed and disappeared in his brain until a final image has hit him forcefully. Miss Ingham! Miss Ingham as Severus has never been able to see her in the hospital, with the white uniform that has substituted her school outfit.

Suddenly, an entire world of memories invades his mind and Severus leans back, breathing with difficulty. The emotion has been too strong. Recognising those characteristic symptoms of distress, Poppy reacts immediately, placing her hands on his temples and slowly massaging them. In a few moments, Severus is himself again; he tells Poppy about the encounter by just whispering "Miss Ingham", and the mediwitch smiles in relief. Then he follows Harry in the tangle of passages leading to the chamber till they both stop before a door.

But now… now Severus perceives something different, something oppressive, something frightening. Waves of panic rise and flow across his body, and his hands begin to shake lightly. There is an immense power waiting behind that door, an evil force quietly waiting for the moment to strike.

"No!" Severus calls, raising a hand as if trying to reach his former student. "Harry, no! _NO_! Don't enter!"

… … … … … … … … …

Harry stays motionless, staring at the door. Contrasting emotions are crossing his mind. A subtle, intoxicating sensation is slowly enveloping his heart. Behind that barrier made of wood and glass there is a mysterious power inviting him, perhaps even the fulfilment of a destiny that, at the moment, is still unfathomable. In the mist that is dimming his senses, Harry perceives a faint call. _Snape_. Snape is warning him. Snape wants him to stop. But the power behind the door is tremendously enticing. Automatically, Harry raises a hand, and with a soft click, the door opens obediently.

… … … … … … … … …

Hermione is alarmed and puzzled. All of a sudden, Harry seems to have become unresponsive. His eyes are lost in remoteness, and the girl can only hope that it's a temporary effect created by the connection with Snape. Perhaps the wizard is talking or giving Harry instructions? Then, unexpectedly, Harry steps forward and there is no more time for thoughts. Hermione hastens to follow him, leaving the surprised Becky behind.

… … … … … … … … …

Harry is standing before the cabinets. His mind is gradually expanding in order to welcome the mysterious presence he feels around him. His ears don't hear anymore, his eyes watch without seeing. Slowly, he breathes in waves of power. Then he lifts his hand and calls softly, "_Accio_ Snape's wand!"

… … … … … … … … …

Becky Ingham is lingering near the door. Her task has successfully been completed and nobody has discovered them. Finally, she can leave her two courageous but potentially lethal companions to their secret mission.

Yet, after the initial powerful sensation of relief, Becky can't make up her mind and leave. She is in a peculiar mood: the few words that Harry has said have filled her with curiosity, so she is torn between the safety offered by a retreat and the temptation to know more. But now what's that light? She hesitates for a moment, then turns and determinedly goes after Hermione.

… … … … … … … … …

An immense vibration follows Harry's request. An increasingly vivid light fills one of the dark corridors between the cabinets. Emerging from its secret hiding, a wand now floats gracefully in mid-air, moving slowly towards the boy. As soon as it gets near him, it seems to bow respectfully to Harry as if acknowledging his authority. Yet, there is something derisive in that apparent submission. The dark power concealed in the room seems to malignantly enjoy that moment. The boy smiles with a sort of affection, shaking his head.

"Finally, we meet again," he murmurs, unconsciously using Bellatrix's words. "But this time will be the last."

… … … … … … … … …

In the dungeons, Severus Snape pushes his hands on his eyes. A blade of light has unexpectedly and cruelly stabbed his pupils, and the man writhes and squirms in the desperate effort to lessen the atrocious pain. It's like reliving the torture that Voldemort has inflicted upon him, and, what is worse, there seems to be no hope of stopping the intolerable luminosity that digs more and more into his flesh.

In an attempt to help, Poppy ends by hugging him tightly. Severus presses his face against her shoulder as if using her as a shield, but the pain grows more and more intense and he pulls back, struggling against spirals of horror. Then his mind unexpectedly links with Harry's again.

A flash, and suddenly it's like he is in the room with the boy, the pain, the horror and the fear miraculously disappeared. The power Harry is radiating envelopes his senses as it did in the encounter with Arthur, and once more, Severus welcomes the peace and the joy that the surprising energy always spreads around; until, finally, the miracle that he was hoping for repeats itself. His eyes open, and the wizard shivers in the indescribable bliss of seeing again.

Then Harry raises his head, and the world seems to stand still in anticipation. Awed, the girls witness the scene, Becky instinctively clinging to Hermione as if searching for protection. None dares to speak.

But Severus is lost in a different enchantment. The wand and its immense power are there finally at his reach, twinkling temptingly before his eyes. His eyes… Isn't this a perfect chance to recover his sight? What Voldemort stole, now can be returned. Hasn't Severus suffered enough? Isn't the time to exact a reward finally here?

Surrounded by a halo of light, the wand sparkles and seems to invite the wizard, whispering promises with irresistible sweetness. Ensnared by those enthralling sensations, Severus' mind fluctuates in a sort of inebriated stupor. The attraction is too strong to be resisted… slowly, gradually, his soul is dragged towards the fascinating radiance while his heart sinks more and more in a dark mist of emotions.

… … … … … … … … …

Harry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, abandoning himself to the energy that runs in his veins. As it happened during the battle in the dungeons, his body begins to radiate, reflecting the power acting inside it.

"The time has come," the boy declares in the incorporeal voice of his mind, preparing to strike; guided by an inner force, his hand traces an elegantly complicated figure in the air.

"No!" Suddenly awakened from his blissful state of torpor, Severus pleads desperately in the same silent way. "_No_! Please wait! My wand can heal me again."

"Releasing its power would only mean letting Voldemort free," is the inexorable reminder.

"Please, let me be free," Severus begs again, forgetting his pride. "You are powerful enough to destroy it afterwards."

"You know that it's impossible, Professor," Harry states quietly.

The boy is only reminding Severus of a danger about which Severus himself has warned them all, and though the wizard knows it perfectly, he feels utterly exasperated. Furthermore, Harry speaks with the irritating authority of those who are in command. The roles have reversed, but Severus is no more willing to submit. A ferocious bitterness is filling his heart.

No! Not now that his salvation is so near, not now that he could be allowed to see again, not now that an infinite chain of sufferings could be broken by a simple gesture. NO! He won't be condemned again, a sacrificial victim as he always was. His mind thrashes in desperation, prisoner in the suffocating space of his brain, another pit of darkness, while his spirit is longing to expand and join the tempting power shining so enticingly before him! A matter of will... yes, it's only a matter of will...

But Harry is too strong. Contrasting waves of force seem to fight back Severus's emotions, and the wizard surrenders to their intensity, acknowledging the supremacy of the boy who once was his student. Defeated, knowing that it's useless but nonetheless trying with all his strength, Severus pleads again.

"Harry… Harry, please…"

The boy sounds saddened in a heartbreaking way. "I came here with a mission, Professor, but I'm not going to perform it against your will. The choice is yours."

A sigh. A choked sob, that expresses all the pain and the desperation struggling inside Severus's heart.

Then a harsh whisper.

"Do it, Potter! Do it immediately! Destroy my wand before I regret my decision!"

A blinding flash, and Severus finds himself back in the dungeons, his eyes aching, his body shaking, his mind alone again in the darkness. Near him, Poppy startles and gasps in shock. Bellatrix's wand has emitted a piercing lament as if asking for mercy; but green ferocious flames have suddenly exploded with fury, and the thin rod blazes and contorts till it's reduced to ashes.

… … … … … … … … …

A deep silence follows this frightening event. Finally, hesitantly, the mediwitch turns to look at Severus. Has her shattered patient realised what has just happened?

He hasn't reacted, so perhaps he hasn't understood that they have won, that their commitment has been rewarded…

But, Merlin, how exhausted he looks now!

Poppy noiselessly sighs in sadness. She knows that something terrible must have happened to Severus during that anguishing adventure. She has witnessed devastating emotions clouding his features while his mouth has uttered soundless, incomprehensible words of pain. She feels the impulse to hug him again, but she doesn't dare. His face has darkened, and his lips are tightened in a bitter line. Helpless before such torment, the little witch states timidly, her voice trembling in the effort of sounding cheerful and reassuring, "It's burned, Severus. I suppose this is the end."

Sharply, the wizard replies, "Yes, it's the end, Poppy. Of Voldemort and of my hopes."

And he gets up, rejecting the hand he is offered.

… … … … … … … … …

**AN:  
**_Hi there, brave and loyal readers. Can't believe you are still following this interminable trip! But I have good news for you. The next chapter has already been written and needs some polish and obviously a revision before being posted._ _As you can see, we are slowly (pay attention to the adverb, I said "slowly") reaching the end ;)_


	22. Never lose hope

**A Matter of Will**

_by Lady Memory_

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer**: I obviously don't own any one of the recognizable characters in this story, even if I would like to._

_As always, heartfelt thanks to my wonderful previewer **Tearsofphoenix** and to my fabulous beta **Angelicka** for her kind revision, useful suggestions and infinite patience. _

_All my sincere thanks to those reading and reviewing._

_... ... ...  
_

**Chapter 21 - Never lose hope**

Minerva stares at the wall of her room with blank eyes. She had been pacing and sitting and pacing again, feeling utterly uncomfortable. But Severus had explicitly asked for her not to be involved in their new and extremely dangerous escapade.

"Remaining here will provide you with a convenient alibi," he had said with his sarcastic accent. And when she had tried to protest, he had simply added with an even more sarcastic smile, "After all, isn't that what Headmasters do? At least, that's what Albus did. He got other people to do the dirty work, so that he ran no risks. In the end, _he _reaped the rewards if there were any."

The comment had been brutal, once more pricking her conscience painfully and opening wounds she had thought mended. And though she had tried to convince herself that Severus only wanted to protect her in his own peculiar, irritating, exasperating way, she had felt deeply hurt.

So, she had disdainfully retired to her rooms, ruminating on her resentment and hoping that Severus could perceive her indignation. But now that she is alone in the silence of the night, new worries join the previous ones while her irritation gradually changes into anxiety. She simply can't retire and be quiet. Her tension grows stronger every minute. Discomfited, she buries her face in her hands and sighs deeply. Then she gets up and heads to the dungeons.

… … … … … … …

Severus has just left the room when Minerva arrives and discovers a pale and shaken Poppy. The mediwitch is anguished, and not only for her patient.

"What about the children?" she asks to the astounded Headmistress.

The mind contact with Harry seems to have been abruptly terminated with the destruction of the wand in St. Mungo's. Poppy had been able to understand it by seeing the way Severus had touched his temples and by the utter desolation that has diffused upon his features. Harry's power always seems to leave him shattered when it is drawn back, so the mediwitch has begun to wonder if Harry himself could be the answer to the catastrophes the Dark Lord had disseminated around him in the last battle. It's an attempt that could be worth the try. But not tonight, evidently. Tonight she has other problems to handle.

Minerva is now upset, so Poppy does her best to calm the Headmistress and answer her questions. Really, being a mediwitch can be so gruelling, she considers. Nobody seems to ever think that Poppy too has feelings and that sometimes, perhaps, incredible as it may sound, she too could need a reprieve from her duties.

"So, Harry and Hermione are still there?" Minerva gasps, finally grasping what Poppy has patiently repeated.

"Yes, but they have found a helper. Young Becky Ingham, do you remember her?"

Yes, Minerva does, but evidently the news isn't comforting, because she pales and collapses on a chair. Another young life involved in this hazardous game...

"Please, let all of them be safe!" she prays.

… … … … … … …

Down in the belly of St. Mungo's, Harry and Hermione have managed their mission very well in spite of all those worries.

_The chamber of secrets lightens powerfully when Harry releases his full power. Snape's wand reacts with a sudden blaze to the threat, but unlike Bellatrix's, its dark power isn't willing to submit and tries to strike back._

_Cries, laments, howls of panic, screams of terror, wails, pleas… Rage, pain, desperation… a whole world of emotions explodes. Everything seems to be concentrated in that thin coal-black stick that dances madly in mid air, releasing the agony of the many tortured people it had witnessed._

_Sparkles of intolerable brilliance now blind the eyes, and the wand struggles and wriggles until it finally disintegrates with a piercing blast, scattering around a myriad of sparkles; frightened, Becky impulsively clings to Hermione, squeezing the other girl's hand and praying to survive._

_Then, like in the battle of the dungeons, a loud rumble is heard underground: the hospital vibrates in a deep spasm while the sound of millions of muffled cries joins that powerful contraction, fading away in the distance._

_Silence falls for a long moment, and the world seems to stand still in frightful anticipation…_

_But, immediately after, an incredible feeling of joy fills the air, an overwhelming sensation of peace and serenity. Becky wipes the tears from her eyes. Still disguised under the form of Poppy Pomfrey, Hermione smiles at Harry, whose face is shining in glory. The boy is gradually returning from his extraordinary experience, an ecstatic expression shaping his traits; the three youngsters look at each other, lost in emotion._

… … … … … … …

The first one to recover is Hermione.

"_Flee_," her eyes say.

"Out!" her voice suddenly orders, breaking the silence. Becky staggers, still awed by the incredible event she has just witnessed.

"Out!" Hermione repeats firmly. "Don't let them find us here!"

Becky widens her eyes in terror. There is only one passage that leads out, and it's the same one that will be used by those coming to investigate. She raises a pleading face at her friends. It's their time to help now, because her mind is annihilated by panic.

But Harry smiles quietly, and Becky loses herself in the irresistible sweetness of his power. The boy opens his cloak, and the girls join him under the invisible shield, Becky stuttering broken questions, Hermione answering patiently. Carefully, they begin their trip back to the higher floors.

Soon they safely arrive in the ward from where they had departed. The air is filled by a confusion of sounds that ricochet against the walls: exclamations, questions, orders, calls… Excited people walk disorderly along the corridors, healers and nurses fretting to check and reassure their patients.

Unnoticed in that pulsing chaos, the children calmly reach an empty room. There, Harry and Hermione Disapparate, leaving the still unbalanced but now radiant Becky with a hug and a promise to keep her informed in the next days.

Their hazardous mission has been brilliantly performed. Now it's time to face their much more dangerous daily troubles again.

… … … … … … …

Two mornings after, in the quietness of her office, Minerva opens a parcel that has been brought by a couple of owls. As soon as she sees what is inside, she frowns in perplexity. Then she reads the parchment attached to the parcel, and she can't suppress a gasp. She reads and reads the letter again, while an immense smile opens on her face.

… … … … … … …

Severus sits on a chair in his rooms, as always lost in reflections. Harry and Hermione are back, safe and sound, and Harry is even more powerful than before, if possible. Everything has ended happily. A new stream of energy is invading the wizarding world, and the Daily Prophet continually reports very strange news: several patients in St. Mungo's, who were suffering from dark curses, have unexpectedly been healed. Some have drastically improved. Even outside, in the cities, in the villages, new disconcerting events are happening. People that were ill or unhappy or distressed now experience a healing sensation of rebirth. The whole wizarding society seems to have entered a new regenerating course. The newspaper describes the facts without giving a convincing explanation, but offering a lot of babbling theories. Of course! How could they know?

The most disconcerting thing is that nobody understood what happened in the chamber. Snape's wand seems to have been erased from the minds of all those who were connected with it in St. Mungo's. Nobody seems to remember that there was once such a device hidden in the bowels of the earth. And nobody seems to be willing to remember. Nobody except Severus, who barely speaks to anyone since that damnable night. He is still closed in a resentful silence when Minerva enters his room, so excited that she doesn't even knock at the door.

"I have a surprise for you, Severus," she says, and her voice wavers.

He slowly raises his head to show polite annoyance. A surprise? What can she possibly mean? A new dish appositely cooked for him by the elves? He can't remember how many times those irritating little creatures have produced culinary creations that should have been his favourites… memories of meals lost in the past, useless diversions, pathetic attempts to show him their gratitude.

But then he catches her controlled tone, the one she uses when she is deeply affected by an emotion. Ah! So, there must be really something going on… Yet, he refuses to let this emotion reach him. Enough! Enough of trusting, enough of accepting, enough of suffering. Severus Snape has given everything he had in his power. Now he only wants to be forgotten in oblivion… though possibly continuing to be an incessant painful reminder to those who surround him.

Therefore, he turns his head away with a sigh, trying to look uninterested yet superiorly patient with this irritating meddling woman.

"Don't you want to know what I have here?" she asks, advancing towards his chair. Her voice is so promising in its hesitation!

He feels suddenly anxious, desperately anxious. But again he grits his teeth. Another disappointment, surely, and he detests the woman that is playing with him and his emotions.

"Well, you are less curious than I expected," she sighs. "Especially considering that what I have in my hands could make you see again!"

AH! She said it! The magical word, the only word that can abruptly awaken him and transform him into an explosion of feelings, an unstoppable sequence of questions, a shivering bundle of impatience.

But Minerva has become unexpectedly silent now.

Suddenly, Severus feels her arms around him. He stiffens, taken aback, but before he can further react, the witch puts a small solid box in his lap. His hands immediately grab it and he frowns in bafflement, raising his stony eyes in a mute question.

"It's a camera, Severus," she explains, and once more he feels the emotion trembling in her voice. "A Muggle camera that has been magically altered to be able to connect with your eyes... and let you see again."

… … … … … … …

The world has changed in an instant. His life has changed in an instant. A new hope violently enters Severus' heart, brushing away all his worries and fears. His sight again! It seemed impossible, yet the solution lies in his hands.

But how? When? Who?

Happy for his happiness, Minerva reads him the parchment that came with the gift, and not only once, but twice. Severus is so excited that he simply can't grab the whole extension of the explanations enclosed there, nor the reason for such a precious present.

"Read it again, Minerva!" his only words are after the first reading. Smiling, the old witch complies.

"_To the Headmistress of Hogwarts:_

_I am offering this gift to Severus Snape, Hogwarts' late Potions Master and war hero, because I want to thank him for his outstanding courage and incessant dedication, that allowed him to save more than a life and even to rescue existences of which he didn't know and to which he offered a renewed future of hope and joy. _

_This is a camera for blind people, designed with the intention of being an acceptable – though still imperfect - replacement to their missing sight. This device has been developed by a team of healers that desire to remain anonymous and who will keep working on this invention to improve it. Please read the directions carefully." _

A list of instructions follows, concise, simple and tremendously enticing. Till the very enigmatic ending.

"_My name is not important. Please don't try to find me. I only hope that this gift will help Professor Snape to see again and enable him to carry on a happier life. With the promise of more to come as soon as my team and I find something new. "_

… … … … … … …

After the second reading, Severus finally begins to realise. The camera is a gift from a mysterious benefactor who has chosen to remain unknown. But who might that extraordinary fellow be?

His mind loses itself in hypotheses until he brusquely stops. He has neither time nor will to think about this at the moment. He is simply disorientated by the incredible chance he has unexpectedly been offered.

Now that the camera and its user are ready for experimentation, Poppy and Filius Flitwick, too, have been called to join the exceptional gathering.

"Shall we try it now?" Severus asks with an unsteady voice. The wizard seems eager yet somehow a bit scared at the idea of actually experiencing his new toy, as if the announced joy could be destroyed by reality.

Minerva turns to look at the mediwitch with a timid smile that shows how completely at a loss she is. Now that the big moment of the announcement has passed, she feels she is not competent enough to manage the situation. Flitwick, too, has a nervous smile. He may be the Charms Professor, but when the charms are to be applied directly to a living person - and specifically to his former colleague, so tragically wounded - a sudden uneasiness seems to block him.

So, they both look at Poppy with trustful, expectant expressions. Treating a patient with such an illness is reserved for a healer, and who better than the one who has proved to be so good in dealing with his infirmity and, much more important, with his character?

For such an important cause, how could Poppy do anything else but comply? It must be said however that her scientific mind is looking forward to experiment with such an extraordinary device. So, she reacts with her usual efficiency.

"Have you checked the camera for jinxes, Filius?" she asks, though she knows how scrupulous her colleague is.

The little wizard hurries to nod. "Yes, I have tried the full set of charms on it. The camera in itself is safe. The spell is extremely easy and, theoretically, it should work… But you see, it involves a knowledge that I… well, I admit that I…."

Discomfited, Flitwick stares apologetically at those around him. But Poppy understands and smiles back reassuringly. Once more, it's her task and she is ready to handle it.

Severus follows this exchange with great impatience, afraid that the promised surprise may turn out to be only a fake. The mediwitch places a hand on the box and he is startled, tightening his grip for a moment as if refusing to let it go.

"Let me help you, Severus," Poppy gently says, noticing how his face has altered. "We must follow the instructions carefully, though they are very simple. This is an ingenious device, but it looks also very fragile. We wouldn't like it to be ruined at the first attempt."

Severus hesitates then nods, silenced by his emotion. Poppy looks at him and represses a smile. The great Severus Snape is chewing his lower lip just like a first year, impatient and nervous with anticipation. She opens the box and extracts the camera. The operation to prepare it takes her only a few seconds. Now the most vital part has arrived, and Poppy can only witness it. As the message explained, everything depends on the future user's will. Once the camera is connected, the link will become indissoluble.

"Hold it in your right hand, Severus," Poppy whispers while Minerva and Filius wait in respectful silence.

"Now focus on the camera. Connect your brain to the piece of metal that will become your eyes. Believe it. _Feel_ it."

She waits. Severus is trembling, eyes closed shut in concentration. Quietly, she asks, "Are you ready? Can you feel it?"

He nods again, tightening his lips in a supreme effort. It's a matter of will, and his will has never been more willing…

"_Connecto_!" the Mediwitch exclaims.

Immediately, Severus widens his eyes and lets out a cry.

"It hurts!" he pants while his face contorts in a grimace. "Merlin, how it hurts!"

His body begins to shake. Terrified, the little witch instantly bends to take the camera away. But Severus unexpectedly draws back, avoiding her hands as if he had detected their movement. He raises the camera with an exultant expression, pointing it at the little woman. Then he laughs, a strangled sound of joy and pain together.

"It hurts but it works, Poppy! I can see you! I CAN SEE YOU!"

The two witnesses in the background release a simultaneous gasp. Minerva is ready to rejoice, Filius blinks to hide his emotion. More perceptive, Poppy tilts her head with a wondering frown. There is something peculiar in his reaction… and in fact, Severus concludes sharply, "But I can see you only in black and white!"

… … … … … … …

The world around Severus has changed again: it has become "achievable". Since the moment he had held the camera in his hands, a new hope has powerfully lit his days. And how thrilling those days have become!

After the connection, his colleagues have tried to help him with the small but uncomfortable weight that, from now on, Severus is going to bring constantly with him. The camera can't be hung at his neck, because he would be forced to turn himself continuously to widen his visual angle. And he can't hold it in his hands, because it would become an annoying weight after a while. In the end, Flitwick has thought that a cane tall enough to place the camera at eyes level could be the best solution, so that Severus can easily make it turn or bend in every direction. Not exactly comfortable, but his thirst for seeing is immense and he is ready to accept whatever compromise.

The first days are frustrating. Severus must learn to move the cane in the direction where he wants to look, and to rotate it quickly to simulate the movement of his head in connection with his brain. Of course, these are not natural actions. It takes time, and the results aren't effectively exciting. And then there is the question of the many options that his sight has lost. He had left a world of colours in which every shade had a meaning. Now he can't tell if the flags he is looking at are Gryffindor's or Slytherin's, unless they have a symbol embroidered on them. But he can see faces, places, expressions. He can enjoy all the subtle suggestions of a conversation. He can select his clothes. He can finally walk without fear.

The many shades that remain undetectable to him even in the large range of grey offered by the camera are the evidence of how much he depended on colours in his previous life. For instance, he can't enjoy the full beauty of a sunset, he can't determine for sure what a liquid in a glass is – not even water, because many liquids look like water – and he can't value if a fruit is ripe, unless it is evidently bruised. But, even though he can't completely appreciate a sight nor afford valuations for which a comprehension of colour is simply indispensable, he trusts that, in the future, he will refine his skills… and after all, hasn't his unknown benefactor written that his team is still working on that incredible invention?

The more Snape thinks of this mysterious figure, the more he is convinced that behind that gift there can be only one man, and that man must be Doctor Ingham, Becky's grandfather. There are too many clues that hint at that idea.

Doctor Ingham is an oculist of great reputation, with friends in both the Muggle and the Wizarding medical worlds. Furthermore, he is a wealthy man, therefore able to sustain the expenses that such an extensive study surely implies. The notes about saving people whose existences Severus didn't even suspect are also a very enlightening detail. Didn't Doctor Ingham thank him in the hospital because, by saving his daughter-in-law - Becky's mother - Severus had somehow granted Ingham himself a life again?

Yes, it must be so. No one else would have the authority, the knowledge and the money to follow such a complex project. And above all, nobody around Severus cares so much for him or has a better reason to invest so many resources in order to improve his health. So, Severus enjoys what he has so unexpectedly been given. And one of his first decisions is to go with Miss Granger to a room in the dungeons where an evil book lies. Finally he will be able to read it. And hopefully, he will find a way to prepare that potion. A safe way.

… … … … … … …

But luck has actually ended its gifts. When Severus and Hermione open the ancient volume smelling of dust and mould, it initially seems to submit. The lines don't move anymore, nor does the book try to bite the fingers that are slowly turning its pages. But an unpleasant surprise awaits the two explorers. In a last desperate defence, the evil tool has cunningly manipulated its texts: the potions and the descriptions are incomplete, and sometimes, their instructions have even been mixed.

As soon as she realises the malignant trick, Hermione can't resist and cries in immense disappointment and desperation: her hopes, so powerfully galvanized after the recovery of Snape's sight, have been brutally wiped away.

This time, Severus hasn't the courage to reproach her. He knows only too well what being offered a gift and then seeing it vanish immediately after means. But he urges her to go on anyway. What they must do is try, try and try again. There is no other solution, because time is passing by and no unknown benefactor has been able to offer a gift to Lupin or to Ronald Weasley or even to Hermione, whose disfigured face is more and more difficult to keep under control with a spell. Evidently, the dark magic is following a wicked course. Snape had been "graced" by a hex that completed its job in just one strike; instead, while hitting the other victims, Voldemort must have added a supplement of malignity by casting spells that keep developing and worsening their dark power with time.

So, from the terrible moment in which the dark book has revealed its inner malice, Hermione begins spending hours and hours in the dungeons, searching, trying, testing. And Severus is following her in her research, as much as he can, to the total surprise and disapproval of his previous colleagues who are ignorant of the value of such frantic study.

Slughorn, in particular, is annoyed, because his supposed assistant has totally deserted his lab and asked the Headmistress to be dispensed from her teaching duties, citing her research and her health conditions as a reason. Needless to say, Minerva has immediately complied.

And finally, failure after failure, Hermione turns to Harry. His Magic is so evidently powerful. Wouldn't he try to heal Ron?

Asked by the girl about her idea, Severus too admits that he would like to see Harry try. The wizard has spent many of his hours in teaching the boy he once deemed a less than mediocre student. Now, before Harry's astounding magical skills, he can only keep silent and watch in awe. These are the moments in which he thinks that Voldemort was right: the infant the Dark Lord tried to kill was effectively a worthy rival. And who knows what Harry will be able to do in the future, how will his skills develop, and what will they bring to the magical world?

Sometimes Severus is scared. The power that is quietly evolving inside Harry is a great temptation. Will the boy be able to resist its subtle seduction? Or should the world fear the advent of a new, much more terrifying Dark Lord?

But even more often, Severus feels a sort of gloomy envy before the serenity and the wisdom that Harry seems to have achieved in spite of the many terrible events he had undergone. Day after day, the older wizard silently compares his own experiences and choices to the choices that Harry has made, and sighs in desolation.

… … … … … … …

_**NA:**_

_To prevent comments to the last lines above: Please remember that this is an AU story and, though obviously similar, my Severus and Harry aren't exactly the same ones we've met in JKR's books._


	23. It Always Gets Worse

**A Matter of Will**

_by Lady Memory_

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer**__: I obviously don't own any one of the recognizable characters in this story, even if I would like to._

_As always, my heartfelt thanks to my wonderful previewers __**Tearsofphoenix**__ and __**Duj**__, and to my fabulous beta __**Nagandsev**__ for their kind revision, useful suggestions and infinite patience. _

_All my sincere thanks to those reading and reviewing: I have left a message for you at the end of the chapter.  
_

**Chapter 22 – It Always Gets Worse When You Don't Expect It**

There is another candidate willing to test Harry's power, and this damaged person is hidden in the most secluded area of the castle. After the disastrous meeting with Severus Snape, Remus Lupin has been experiencing an increased sense of desperation. Poppy has explained the reasons for it to Minerva: his wolfish nature has reacted powerfully against the hex that struck him in the dungeons, thus saving his life, but this inner strength has been a blessing and a curse at the same time, as it forces him to live in continuous pain. The violent skirmish with Severus has been the last straw for Lupin's weakened spirit. Too exhausted to keep fighting yet too resistant to surrender to his illness, he has progressively sunk into an alarmingly passive state since then.

During her frequent visits to her former professor, a saddened Hermione has witnessed his progressive worsening, and many times, she has tried to comfort the heartbroken Tonks, who is devoting her life to help her unfortunate lover.

But Lupin's last attack has been so unbearable to watch, and it has left him so shattered, that Hermione overcomes her scruples and talks with Madam Pomfrey about the possibility of testing Harry's power on the unlucky werewolf… only to discover that the mediwitch has also made up her mind to ask Harry to try.

So, reassured by Poppy's encouraging approval, a small group of people gather in Lupin's room on a windy afternoon. Severus too has consented to be present, though he is feeling very uncomfortable after the last encounter with his old schoolmate. Now that he has the help of the camera, he can see how devastated Lupin is, the mortal slowness with which the werewolf turns his head, the immense exhaustion reflected in his eyes.

Again, Severus compares what happened to those who faced Voldemort in the last battle – Hermione, Lupin, Ron Weasley, Severus himself - and feels somewhat baffled. He has been hurt, yet somehow he has succeeded in finding ways to ease his illness. Destiny seems to keep a protective hand on his head. Even those who were reckless students have now turned into affectionate, supportive helpers, if not friends. The Granger girl, in particular, has impressed him with her capacities. She never loses hope. She might cry, she might sink into desperation for a moment, but then she resurges again, more pugnacious and more determined than before. It's the same kind of strength that supported Potter during his years at school, the same spark that now keeps Ronald Weasley breathing. So, Severus not only envies Hermione and her perseverance, but he envies all of her friends with all his soul. Oh, if he had ever experienced such loyalty, such trust, such devotion in his early years!

Suddenly, he is back in the room again. Lupin is speaking to him, and he blushes, realising that he hasn't heard a word. But he blushes even more when he notices the way in which those in the room are looking at him. His face must have displayed a very particular expression… At this point, he can only hope that he hasn't betrayed his thoughts completely.

Lupin is watching him now, shivering under his covers.

"Still angry with me, Severus?" he asks with trembling lips before a strangled sob shakes him violently.

"Remus, Remus, don't!" Tonks exclaims immediately, and her so openly displayed emotion makes Severus feel even more uncomfortable. The girl kneels by Lupin and embraces him tightly, whispering words of comfort. "He's here to help you, Remus, calm down. We are all here to help you."

Yet, while Tonks talks, she turns to glance pointedly at Severus. The wizard catches a veiled detestation in that look and can't help but lowering his head; he knows that Tonks dislikes him! She always did, and now she is probably blaming him for having worsened Remus' condition with the violent argument that happened days before. And surely she doesn't care if that argument was the consequence of a Dark spell, and if Severus risked being killed by a possessed Arthur Weasley immediately after. Severus sighs inwardly. There is a confusion of feelings in his heart and his head, and he looks at Hermione, hoping for a sort of help.

But Hermione too has approached the bed, and now she's doing her best to comfort Remus. Harry stays behind, strangely silent. Severus tries to reach him too, but the boy seems to have shielded his mind, isolating himself from words and emotions.

... ... ... ... ... ...

Finally, the moment of the experiment arrives. Poppy has taught Harry a special medical spell, hoping that the immense power stored in the boy might activate a reaction. Now the room is quiet, and the only audible sound is the slow breathing of the man waiting in his bed with closed eyes. Everybody is looking at Harry while the most disparate thoughts silently whirl in the air, gathering in a flux of hope.

... ... ... ... ... ...

_A slight improvement_, the mediwitch silently prays, _just a slight improvement that may help me gain time and find a_…

But the moment has arrived, and she closes her eyes with a shiver.

... ... ... ... ... ...

Hermione holds her breath. _Please please please please please_, her mind repeats incessantly. _Please heal him! Heal him and let us all be healed!_

Then her plea is absorbed by a gigantic wave of energy.

... ... ... ... ... ...

Tonks is waiting, eyes focused on the man breathing painfully at her side. She hugs him tightly and thinks that nothing matters, no, nothing matters as long as she can hold him in her arms…

A flash explodes, filling the room with a blinding light.

... ... ... ... ... ...

Tonks is the first to react, and she raises her head, opening her eyes in desperate anxiety. Her gaze scrutinizes the body lying inertly under the blankets. Nothing seems to have happened, and frustrated, she almost shakes him to make him speak.

"Remus!" she calls. "Remus! Are you feeling OK? Are you feeling… better?"

There is an immense hope in her questions. Lupin blinks, and his eyes search for her eyes. He smiles, a faint, tremulous smile that becomes more and more confident.

"Remus!" Tonks cries, and tears begin to wet her cheeks. "Remus! You're smiling! You are better!" The joy in her voice is simply indescribable.

Touched and exultant, Poppy casts a thankful glance at her young helpers, clasping and unclasping her hands in the effort of controlling her agitation. Harry is swaying lightly, and Hermione squeezes his wrist forcefully, lips trembling with emotion. The miracle has happened. The miracle…

Then Lupin raises his head and nods at his old schoolmate.

"You should be happy, Severus," the werewolf states quietly. "There is justice after all."

Then he turns to the astonished Tonks, and his smile becomes heartbreakingly sweet. "It didn't work, dearest. But you mustn't—"

He can't go on.

With a sharp cry of pain, blinded by tears, Tonks hugs and kisses him forcefully as if trying to delete those horrible words and their frightening truth.

Poppy looks shocked; Hermione can't restrain the tears; Harry drops his head and inhales deeply.

In the frozen silence that has suddenly fallen, only Tonk's broken sobs fill the air.

Determinedly, Severus turns and exits the room.

... ... ... ... ... ...

The morning after, filled with bitter resentment, Severus goes to the dungeons where Hermione waits for him, and his thoughts follow him obediently. Now that he can use his eyes again, he has tried to uncover the mystery that seems to surround the hateful Book they are forced to consult.

While he was learning to see again, the girl was trying hard to interpret the formulas that keep intermixing continuously in a game of riddles. So by now, her advanced knowledge has helped her to recreate a great part of the Regeneratium potion, but there is still a lot to do, and Severus wants to participate. The Book seems to somehow bow to his authority, though not completely. Yet it acknowledges Harry's superiority, probably because it perceives that Harry defeated the Dark Lord, thus becoming the most powerful wizard of his generation. But Harry of course can't be involved in their secret project.

Once more, Severus focuses on the boy who he has finally learned to understand. Fame, honour, glory… Harry knows what would be offered to him if he should leave Hogwarts. This is why he prefers to stay in the castle, teaching children almost his age. After the latest events, Minerva thought that Harry could be excused from his demanding tasks so to allow him to return to a more rewarding life… but the boy seems to prefer living in the quietness of his daily routine. And here comes another soothing consideration: perhaps Harry doesn't want to go because he is actively following the lessons Severus is imparting him and that are aimed to teach the boy how to control the new power which keeps growing inside him.

It's strange how the two of them have learned to get along. The irritating youngster has turned into a quiet student, and the embittered man into an awed mentor. Their relationship is very cautious but their link seems to improve every day. This thought, as always, brings a sort of consolation to the disillusioned Severus.

... ... ... ... ... ...

When he enters the potion room, Hermione is bending over the cauldron, eyes narrowed in concentration. She is so busy calculating the stirs that she doesn't even notice him. But, even with his limited black and white vision, Severus notices her hurried breathing and the dark shades on her face where the cheeks have reddened in the effort.

How many hours has she spent in this gloomy room, reading and hoping and trying… only to end by being frustrated again and again?

Till now, they have created dozens of sequences, using every possible combination in order to find the correct formula the Book is stubbornly hiding amongst its pages. What they will do when they find the right one, is still to be decided. In mutual agreement, they don't talk about that part of the plan. But they know, and that painful knowledge subtly corrodes their minds. Once the base is ready, in that moment a terrible choice will be presented to them. And then, what will they do?

"I think this time we almost guessed right, Professor," Hermione says, interrupting his thoughts.

He tightens his lips before asking harshly, "What were the changes you made?" as he inclines the cane that supports the camera in order to check the potion boiling in the cauldron.

"I've switched the order of the ingredients as you suggested," she replies quietly, watching him with tired but trustful eyes—the eyes of the perfect student she was, in the face of the deformed monster she is slowly becoming.

"I added the dragon's scales after the mummy's ashes," she says and continues talking, unaware of the pain her blurred voice is producing in his heart. "And I've left them to simmer for twenty minutes. See? The colour has changed to dark orange!"

She is so happy that she doesn't realise her blunder. After all, Severus now effectively "sees", though in black and white. And another consideration follows immediately: strange how it has been easy to rely on eyes again! As if he hadn't been blind for those long months. He was thirsty to see, and he is already beginning to curse the limitations that his camera imposes, just as it's happening today.

The Book said that, before adding the catalyst, the base of the potion needed to reach a red gradation. But in their first attempts, the colour invariably reached shades of violet or muddy brown. Then, try after try, they had begun to recompose the puzzle. And today, as if admitting defeat, the book suddenly shivers and murmurs with a soft flipping of its pages, "_Master_…"

Thrilled by that unexpected, promising reaction, Hermione gasps and orders anxiously, "Speak!"

Severus places a hand on her shoulder.

"Manners, Miss Granger!" he says sharply. Besides being disrespectful to her much more qualified professor, speaking with a Dark Art tool can be dangerous for the girl who is already living under a dark spell.

But before he can realise the oddity of those thoughts – Hermione is actively working on one of the most dangerous potions ever concocted! – the Book speaks again, obeying the girl.

"_Sacrificium oportet_," it whispers in Latin and seems to darkly enjoy the moment.

"Explain yourself!" Severus orders rudely.

"_A sacrifice is required, Master_," the book mumbles slowly in English with a soft brushing of pages. "_Are you ready?"_

The time has come.

_Are you ready?_

Snape stiffens, and once more Hermione reacts before he can utter a word.

"I'm ready!" she declares and puts a hand over the wrinkled pages as if sealing a promise.

"MISS GRANGER!" Severus exclaims in panic.

The book shudders and chuckles, evidently pleased.

"_My lady_…" it murmurs, and parts of the text move and compose new sentences. The real formula is finally there, glowing in pale splendour.

Hermione straightens and her eyes sparkle fiercely.

"It's a deal," she says.

... ... ... ... ... ...

Snape is walking amongst the trees in the gardens that surround Hogwarts, heart and mind still confused by a storm of emotions. So, in the end the book has captured its prey. Hermione has given her assent to the magical contract while Severus, her teacher, her mentor, her… _friend_, hasn't been able to do anything except watch helplessly.

Of course, they quarrelled violently immediately after. He has voiced his rage and frustration for her decision. But she has surprised and utterly silenced him with her courage and her trust in his skills.

"I know that you will manage the formula much better than I could ever do, Professor," she has told him, tears twinkling in her eyes. "If there is a hope, you are the only one who can make it happen. For you. For me. For all of us."

Terrified, angered, pained—along with a multitude of other contrasting feelings clashing in his chest and temporarily hampering him, Severus has left the potion room and begun to wander in the desperate search of a different answer.

Now, slowly, the wizard goes down the short steps that lead to a lovely walk which borders the lake. The view is really beautiful, and no student is normally allowed there as the area is reserved for visitors. Here Severus hopes to find the peace and the solitude he needs to unravel his thoughts and figure out a solution.

As if trying to reassure him, the sun appears amongst the clouds and its rays timidly touch the fields, making their dark autumnal colours shine. But Severus can't see the glory so generously displayed before him. Closed in his black and white walls, he walks lost in a deep melancholy, automatically following the cobbled path until a sound makes his head jerk up.

Voices. Voices in a place where nobody is supposed to be.

His head turns cautiously, and finally he detects them.

Tonks and Lupin.

Lupin is curled in a wheelchair, and Tonks is sitting on a bench near him, tenderly embracing him while he rests his head on her shoulder.

Severus chills at the scene and looks around, searching for a retreat that may allow him to leave, to disappear, to vanish.

But it's too late. They have seen him.

... ... ... ... ... ...

"Severus!" Tonks calls after a moment of hesitation, and he perceives a strange vibration in her voice, a forced gaiety. "What an unexpected surprise! We were just talking of—"

"Tonks!" Lupin seems to warn her in his quiet, suffering tone.

But Tonks looks desperate, and at the same time, determined.

"Please, Remus, let me ask," she pleads anxiously, untangling herself gently but resolutely from his arms and speaking in broken sentences. "Just a question… It can't hurt him… Don't worry, I'll stay near… Severus, please!"

Called so forcefully, Severus can't refuse to stop; so, he waits for the young woman to reach him while his eyes darken in anticipation. What may Tonks possibly want from him?

"Severus," she begins uncertainly. Slowly, she manages to bring him far from the reach of Remus' ears.

"Severus, listen… I would like to apologise…" Her eyes flicker to and from his face, in embarrassment. Even without the help of his camera, Severus perceives uneasiness and fear, a great deal of fear. But why? What's happening? Unconsciously, Severus's lips curl in his usual scowl. Tonks swallows and lowers her head. That conversation must cost her a lot.

"Remus told me how you tried to save him in the dungeons… and I am grateful for your help. Really grateful…" She stops and seems to gather her courage. "He also told me about the pranks he and his friends inflicted on you in school… so, now I understand your feelings … but now… now you must understand mine as well."

Suddenly, her voice is vibrating with passion and words flow impetuously.

"It's such a pain, Severus, such an immense pain! Remus suffers so much, and there is nothing I can really do. He is running out of time, Severus! You must help him… please…" Tears twinkle in her eyes. "Please, have mercy," she whispers.

"As you said, I've tried," he replies curtly. Her emotion is difficult to handle, and it brings him inexorably back to his tragic dilemma: but he can't reveal that he is already working on a project that might save them all (Them_ all? _What about Hermione?). So, he tries to free himself from that uncomfortable situation by stating the obvious.

"I'm sorry, but the Dark Lord's hexes are too strong to be counteracted."

Tonks bites her lip and claps her hands spasmodically. He stops her again with another sentence that he hopes to be definitive. "Perhaps you didn't notice, but I too was hexed."

Tonks swallows again, but this time the camera that Severus keeps inclined towards the young witch catches a sudden spark in her eyes.

"I thought that, now that you can see again… and we are all happy for that," she hastens to insert, "I thought that you could try to find a remedy. You are an expert of Dark Arts. I'm sure you could identify the spell that hit Remus. And then, you are such a good potioneer! Perhaps you could brew something? You helped him so well with Wolfsbane!"

"Yes," Severus states through gritted teeth, "and see how gratefully I was repaid that night in the Shack."

"It was in another life, Severus," the girl replies with an imploring tone. "Now everything has changed."

"Not everything, Tonks. _I_ haven't changed. And I am not as… _good_ as you may think."

He uses the adjective intentionally, hoping to discourage her.

"But now you ARE well, Severus! You are well, and you have your eyes again! Don't you think that that camera was given back to you for a purpose?"

"TONKS!" Remus calls. The man has followed their discussion from over in his wheelchair, and his whole body tenses with the effort of raising his voice to reach them.

But the young witch doesn't seem to care; instead, she gets nearer to Severus, raising her hands in a begging gesture.

"Why not, Severus? You have knowledge, expertise, cleverness, talent… and an immense power in your brain. Won't you use all this to help?"

Severus backs off, his face an impenetrable mask. "Thank you for reminding me of my many qualities," he says in a dangerously cold voice. "Strangely, it never seemed that you noticed them… _in another life_."

Tonks stiffens. "Are you going to help him or not, Severus?" she asks in a tone that reveals anguish and anger for the crumbling of her hopes.

"You know that I can't, Tonks!" the wizard replies, feeling more and more frustrated. But before he can continue his speech, a sudden sharp impact interrupts his words.

Overwhelmed by her too many contrasting emotions, Tonks has turned her back to him, but by doing so, she has involuntarily kicked Severus' cane. The world abruptly turns upside down for him while the camera is violently projected on the ground. Its fall confounds Severus' senses. Blackness is again on him, and his eyes close without closing, lost as he is in a whirl of blurred images that keep rotating maddeningly.

And finally, in the effort to catch his precious device, he completely loses his balance. He feels his hands impact violently on the dirt. An acrid taste of blood is on his lips when his mouth collides against the cobblestones and his mind fills with a blind fury.

"TONKS!" Remus calls desperately, but lost as she is in her despair, the young woman has momentarily closed her heart to compassion.

"See how easy it is to fall when we are not helped, Severus?" she says, and contempt vibrates in her voice. "Your eyes aren't so useful, after all! Harry and Hermione have wasted time and money on that camera but you didn't deserve it, you miserable—"

Dizzy, humiliated, furious, the wizard scrambles to his feet; swaying in the effort of resetting his senses, he straightens himself to his full impressive height, hands protectively closed on the miraculously unscratched camera.

"TONKS!" This time Severus roars her name, and the witch startles and stops, backing up a step.

"What… did you say…?" he pants, facing her. "What did you say about the camera?"

"Ah! So you don't know?" she replies aggressively. "Well, if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you."

"Tonks!" Lupin has managed to move his wheelchair and get nearer. The werewolf looks extremely drained but his eyes flash vividly in his pale face. The witch turns to look at him, and anger suddenly abandons her.

"Remus!" Tonks is near him, hugging him remorsefully and burying her face in his chest. Holding her in his arms, Remus looks at his old schoolmate.

"I'm sorry, Severus," he says quietly.

"I'm not sorry at all," Tonks exclaims in rage from the circle of Remus' arms. Then she bursts into tears.

Severus is waiting, a solitary figure in soiled robes, a small gash on a cheek and droplets of blood coagulating on his chin. He knows that he looks pathetic, yet he struggles to control his breathing and his impatience.

Finally, leaving his cane on the ground, he raises the camera at the two lovers. They seem to have forgotten him. Lupin is cradling Tonks in his arms, murmuring unintelligible words to which she replies in kind. Severus is still panting; he feels the redness mount to his cheeks while he witnesses the mute exchange of tenderness. But he must know.

"Lupin," he mutters at last.

"Lupin," he repeats uncomfortably when nobody answers him.

Remus raises his head.

"What did she mean?" Severus asks curtly.

"The camera. Your camera," Lupin replies.

"Well?"

Remus sighs. "Did you ever wonder where did it come from?"

"Yes. But there was a letter… a letter which said that the sender wanted to remain anonymous…" Severus instinctively holds his breath.

Lupin sighs again. "Of course. Well, the original idea was Hermione's." His amber irises watch Severus attentively. "Harry paid the research and the team involved."

Severus' mouth goes dry. "Doctor Ingham?" he whispers. But while he asks, he suddenly remembers that day in the dungeons when he and Hermione had started studying the Book, and Harry had unexpectedly arrived and spoken a few, meaningful words through the door.

"_I have come to tell you that everything is ready."_

Yes! How could he have been so stupid?

In the meantime, Remus continues, replying to Severus' question. "Ingham was one of the technical consultants. Everything was done in total secrecy."

Severus clenches the camera. "So, you, how did you know?" he asks through gritted teeth.

Lupin shrugs. "Hermione. She was so happy when the idea worked that she couldn't resist telling us. She seemed to think that the camera would create a… a favourable condition in your spirit that could encourage you to help us."

Severus is speechless.

Misunderstanding his reaction, Lupin shakes his head and adds bitterly, "You know Hermione. She always sees the good in everyone."

"But how could—"

Remus interrupts Severus' hurried question by raising a hand. "I'm sorry. I don't know anything else. And, to be honest, I wouldn't tell you even if I did."

Severus stiffens and whirls on his heels, abandoning his cane on the ground. He leaves in a fury, and the storm in his chest turns into a hurricane while he hastens to reach the castle.

... ... ... ... ... ...

When he enters the Potions room though, the hurricane has turned again into a cold determination. Hermione is still there, bent over the cauldron, stirring the liquid while her eyes narrow in concentration.

"Miss Granger," he says with his most unfriendly tone. She startles, raises her head and – incredibly – she smiles at him in spite of his scowl. She smiles, and he feels completely at a loss.

But he continues stubbornly, "Miss Granger, the most surprising news has just been reported to me."

She widens her eyes. Clearly, he thinks, she hopes for something good. And her trustful expectation fills him with a bitter remorse. How could he accept to be involved in such a hazardous project? How could he encourage that… _child_ to go on with such a dangerous search? And even more maddening, how could he doubt that she would succeed? Hermione Granger, the cleverest witch of her generation!

The game has gone on for too long. It's time to stop it. But to stop it, there is only one solution: a dark, terrible solution that will require all his courage and his ability at pretence.

Hermione gets nearer; now she looks at him, at his disorderly robes and at the precious camera that he is so unusually holding in his hand. Her expression changes to one of concern.

"What happened to you? Where is your cane?"

"That's none of your business," Severus replies in a deliberately impolite manner.

He shapes his features into a frown before going on in his characteristic sarcastic tone.

"I've just discovered that this camera, my camera," and he lifts it with an angry gesture, "has been a nice but unsolicited gift from you and Mr. Potter."

She looks even more worried. Then she sighs. "I'd hoped… we'd hoped … well, how did you find out?"

"I have my sources," he replies disdainfully. An inexplicable reluctance forbids him to include Tonks and Lupin in his report. But unlike him, Hermione isn't blind. While he has been talking, she has kept observing him, collecting and weighing every detail of his bruised face and stained clothes.

"Dust," she says slowly pointing her forefinger at his robes. "Grass. Torn fabrics. Bruises. And a cut on your cheek."

Her eyes search for his, though she knows that actually the camera is his real eyes.

"You obviously fell and hurt yourself… and where could that happen? It looks like you went to the garden… Oh!" She gasps and suddenly seems to realise. "You must have met Tonks. She wanted to take Remus to the park, today…" Bitterly now, she said, "I shouldn't have told them."

Silence falls as neither of them dares speak.

"Are you angry?" she finally asks.

"I'm not angry," he replies with the same bitter tone she has. He would like to go away and disappear into a placid oblivion, forgetful of the world and of the suffering of those surrounding him. But the situation needs a sacrifice, and again, it has been requested of him. And how ridiculous this sacrifice is, if compared to the much bigger one Hermione was going to offer!

"I'm not angry," he repeats. "And to tell you the truth, I'm not surprised either. I should have known that your brilliant mind would find the way to solve the problem of my sight."

He raises his head, regretting that his camera offers him only a limited, black and white vision. Hermione looks paler, but he cannot be sure. He speaks slowly in his hateful cynical tone. "It was a splendid way to lure me into your plan. After all, I'm accustomed to being used… so why shouldn't you use me as well?"

"That's not what I did!" she cries.

"Then why didn't you tell me?" he retorts, and she opens her arms in a disarming gesture.

"Would anything have changed?" she whispers.

The moment has arrived. He braces himself. "Yes. It would."

A deep breath. "I'm sorry, Miss Granger, but I cannot accept your gift."

She is suddenly alarmed. "But, Professor…"

"I'm sorry," he repeats, and his mind mutely completes his sentence.

_I'm sorry, but I cannot let you risk your life, even if that would mean salvation for all the others. I'm sorry, but I can't allow myself for you to be condemned to a horrible end. I'm sorry, but I can't just watch you disappear in sacrifice. We must find something else. It's everyone or nobody._

With a quick move, he smashes the camera on the floor.

"NO!" she cries in horror. "No! Not now that I have found the right combination!"

Hermione stands agape for an interminable moment, then lowers her head and bursts into desperate, unrestrained sobs, bending over the cauldron as if protecting it. But, before she can stop them, her tears fall in the boiling liquid, completely spoiling her perfect concoction.

Lost again in the darkness, a tempest of emotions whirling in his heart, Severus once more turns and leaves, extending his arms to touch the walls and find a support. He stumbles and sways on the uneven stones of the floor, and two times he even risks losing his balance. But he goes on stubbornly, gritting his teeth while Hermione's sobs lacerate his spirit.

... ... ... ... ... ...

**Message (as always, unbetaed. Sorry):**

_Dear extremely patient friends who have been waiting for this story to be concluded: if you are still there, I have good news for you._

_The story has actually been completed more than a month ago; I did a supreme effort to close it in spite of the many troubles real life is offering me on a silver platter lately, because I promised I would end, it and I usually keep my word.  
_

_So, I have written the final chapters and spent the last weeks looking for a beta (the usual frustrating problem of us poor non native author who respect English too much to inflict our native readers our mistakes). And - halleluja! - I have finally found a very skilled girl who is helping me in this task. __Therefore,_ I am glad to announce you that the countdown has started. I will post the following chapters as soon as my beta send them back to me.

_ - 3 to the end. Thanks again for being here with me :)_


	24. Ask and Thou Shalt Be Given

**A Matter of Will**

_by Lady Memory_

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer**__: I obviously don't own any one of the recognizable characters in this story, even if I would like to._

_As always, my heartfelt thanks to my wonderful previewer __**Tearsofphoenix**__ and to my fabulous beta __**Nagandsev**__ for their kind revision, useful suggestions and infinite patience. _

_All my sincere thanks to those reading and reviewing__._**_  
_**

**Chapter 23 – Ask and Thou Shalt Be Given**

Severus proceeds tentatively in the darkness. Gradually, the abilities he had developed in his previous months of blindness come to his help, and finally he steadies his walk.

"_Accio_ magical cane!" he murmurs, and in a few seconds, the walking stick that Flitwick created for him weeks ago – how far that moment seems, now! – is obediently in his hands. Adapting his pace to its annoyingly rhythmic bouncing, Severus walks without a real destination, mulling over his thoughts and following their flux absentmindedly.

Hurting Hermione to save her… Quarrelling with Tonks over his wasted abilities… Questioning Lupin and ending by being despised… That's not what he wanted! His foot bumps against something solid. There are steps in front of him now, and automatically, lost in his grim considerations, he climbs them, going higher and higher until he feels a cold breeze on his face. He has reached the top of the stairs, and suddenly, he realises where he is: the Astronomy tower. He feels a pang in his heart. There is where everything began. There is where his destiny was definitely shaped.

"_Albus,"_ he thinks bitterly. _"In the end, I am still in the clutches of your plan. And I don't see, no, I literally don't see the light! What else must happen? Who else is going to be destroyed? When, oh when, are we all going to find a reprieve?"_

He sits on the rough stones of the terrace, leaning against a low wall of bricks and feeling its rigid coldness through his clothes. It's an uncomfortable position, but he holds it stubbornly. His heart aches. His eyes ache. Every fibre in his body cries, longing for freedom. Feeling the cold slowly reach his heart, Severus curls and buries his face in his hands.

A gentle rain begins to fall, but he stays there until a serviceable and horrified house-elf comes to rescue him. The tiny voice of the little creature takes him out of the pit of misery in which he has sunk. Shivering, he stretches his hand, mutely asking for help. The elf eagerly clasps it and begins to draw him, scolding him in the annoyingly affectionate way elves behave with their beloved masters. Yet, though this elf is completely unknown to him and therefore there are no special bonds between them, Severus doesn't react with irritation to such familiar treatment, but follows the little creature, lowering his head in acceptance.

….

Poppy holds the broken camera in her hands, shaking her head in disbelief. Then she shows it to Minerva, who looks utterly shocked.

"I found it in the dungeons," Poppy explains briefly.

"But how… how…?" Minerva asks, unable to find the words.

"I don't know. But I suppose that it was too heavy for Severus… in all senses."

Minerva closes his eyes. "Inviting Severus here was a mistake, wasn't it, Poppy?" she whispers and continues with an uncertain voice, "I thought I could help him, but I was wrong! I even asked Albus, and he said that he can't do anything either. I feel so helpless!"

"Don't blame yourself, Minerva," Poppy gently declares, and places a hand on the older witch's arm in a comforting gesture. "You did what you thought right."

And she adds with a confidence that she is far from effectively feeling, "Hogwarts is Severus' home. There is no other place on the earth in which he would like to stay. Here are his memories and his friends. I'm sure we will find a solution."

"_At least, that's what I hope_," she concludes in her mind with an imperceptible sigh.

….

Following his guide, Severus finally reaches his room. There he dismisses his kind helper, just to regret his decision immediately after. How horrible is to be blind again and to be exposed to dangers he cannot detect anymore! Step after step, he advances wearily till his hands find his armchair. He slumps into it, and once more, he buries his face in his hands, letting his thoughts break out in short, halting fragments.

_Ended. Everything has ended. His decision totally destroyed Hermione's hopes. But he couldn't let Hermione destroy herself! There must be another solution, and suddenly, he sees the answer. Tomorrow he will go to the dungeons, and to begin with, he will apologise to Hermione; then, he will speak to the Book in order to propose a new deal. Hermione has found the right concoction, so their roles can be reversed: she will be the potioneer and he… he will be the catalyst. Yes. There is no other solution. Now that he has no more eyes to brew a potion, she will be forced to accept his offer. He will tell her a lie – how many lies did he tell in his life? Another one won't matter! - and he will assure her that he has got better chances to survive a dark potion, because of the dark pact he concluded in his youth. The Book has been clear. A sacrifice is needed. So, it's useless for him to hope for a happy end. But at least, he will disappear bringing something good to those surrounding him. Those who remain will remember him with gratitude. And this will be the perfect way to atone for his mistakes. Yes. He started everything by giving the prophecy to the Dark Lord. By offering himself, he will break the ill-fated circle. And when the potion is—_

Three sharp knocks at the door startle him, interrupting his thoughts. Who could it be? What if it were Hermione? He stiffens. No. He is not ready to talk to her, so he is not going to open it. And then he remembers. The door is not locked. In his immense misery, he has forgotten about precautions. So, in a tense silence, he hears the doorknob turn and snap, and a soft voice call, "Professor Snape… are you there? Are you well?"

He raises his head to answer, but no sound comes out of his throat. Lost in an undefined emotion, he suddenly realises. There is something disconcerting yet very familiar in that voice. But what is it? And why does it upset him so much?

"Miss Granger?" he tentatively asks, and a tumult of feelings makes him shiver. "Miss Granger?" he asks again while the blood pulses in his ears, nearly deafening him. Uncertain, he extends a hand. It's so dark there! Dark outside him and dark inside him…

And then a spark lights in the void of his mind, and he understands why he was so disconcerted. That's the voice that was blurred by a hex during a battle, yet now it sounds again like the ring of a bell! As if confirming his thoughts, the voice speaks again, and a quiet exultation fills the room.

"Professor Snape… Severus… It's me, Hermione. We did it."

And with a soft whisper that hits him like a blow. "I've been healed."

His mind gets lost. "You… you _what_?"

Rather than answering, she takes his hands and gently places them on her face like a caress. There is soft, delicate, intact skin where there were scars and stiff tissues, and he gasps in surprise.

"The spell is broken," she murmurs. "Can you feel it? I'm myself again."

For a long moment, he is too shocked to react. Then he finds his voice.

"But how? HOW?" he asks in astonishment.

"My tears," she replies simply. "They fell in the potion, and somehow, they acted like a catalyst."

"Your tears…" he repeats, feeling an acute remorse for having made her cry. And finally the incredible truth strikes him. "You are safe!" he exclaims.

"Yes. The book said that a sacrifice was needed, and we interpreted its words in their most terrible connotation. But a sacrifice actually happened. You sacrificed something extremely precious - your sight - and I… I cried for you. Our sufferings joined, so now I am free. Thank you, Professor."

Overflowing with feelings that she doesn't know how express, she presses his hands between hers, and he stiffens, torn between contrasting emotions: embarrassment, joy, bewilderment, relief… and hope. A gigantic hope.

Hermione seems to perceive it when she says, an immense smile in her voice, "Now it's your turn. I have brought a goblet for you."

She puts something metallic, heavy and warm in his hands. He is still lost in a dream; his eyelids close, and in this hazy state, he drinks the mixture that is going to be his salvation. The taste is horrible. He shivers violently and opens his eyes with a mute plea, but no image forms on his petrified retinas. There is still blackness around him.

The pain, the horror, the disappointment are unbearable, and his fingers open, letting the goblet drop on the ground with a loud sound.

"Miss Granger?" he implores, still hoping for an explanation, a justification, perhaps a delayed effect.

But she stifles a sob, and his heart seems to break in a thousand pieces at that implicit, terrible admission.

"I'm sorry. The potion didn't work."

….

The sensation of failure pervading the room is really disheartening, but Hermione isn't willing to surrender so easily; and though her heart twists in pain at seeing how devastated Snape looks, she reacts immediately with her characteristic stubbornness: what has gone wrong? Why the potion didn't work? Wasn't the formula designed to be a universal remedy… or is she the only legitimate recipient entitled to its benefits?

In that case, Severus' sacrifice would be incomplete… And which new sacrifice should be performed and by whom?

There is only a way to discover it. So, a resolute Hermione promises a shattered Severus that she will find a solution; then, acting on impulse, she goes to visit Remus Lupin. There are many worries whirling in her mind, but one in particular has been nagging her in those last few frantic hours: what happened with Snape in the park?

The werewolf is a bit reluctant to talk about his encounter, but he pales when the girl tells him that she and Severus have been working for weeks on an extremely hazardous potion that could heal them all, and that only a mutual pact of silence has prevented Snape to disclose that secret. Remorse shapes Remus' face, and he is ready to admit that he has been unfair, once more misjudging his old schoolmate and colleague.

Careful not to give away any detail on the procedure - especially the part about the sacrifice – Hermione then proceeds to tell him what has happened and how she has been healed… while Snape hasn't. Remus is obviously and extremely interested, and he finally asks to personally try the potion. Realising that she has incautiously offered a hope that could probably develop into another devastating failure, Hermione feels scared; so, she tries to discourage Remus by describing the risks implicit in that choice: yes, another test would be useful, but drinking the potion could entail a huge danger. As they have just experienced, there is no way to foresee how the tester could react…

But Remus insists, and in the end, Hermione brings him a goblet. Tonks isn't in the room, but when Hermione suggests calling her, the man instantly refuses because, as he explains, he doesn't want to subject her to an experience that could easily turn into a cruel disappointment…

But, when Remus jerks up his head, and placing his hands on the armrests, he suddenly rises from his wheelchair - an incredulous smile still on his lips - Hermione isn't able to resist any longer.

"_Tonks! Tonks! Come here! NOW__!"_

Terrorised, the young witch arrives in a blast, just to experience the most incredible, powerful, exalting shock of her life.

….

A euphoric sensation of success is burning in Hermione's veins now, and before – lost in their immense happiness – Tonks and Lupin might think to stop her, she leaves the castle and hurries to reach the Burrow. Her heart is pounding in hope when she Apparates in the house. Drained by an incessant pain, Molly and Arthur aren't able to utter a word, so holding the precious goblet in her hands, she inclines her head in a greeting and dashes to Ron's room.

Ron is lying inertly in his bed, sucking in air with painfully slow breaths. The boy has weakened in a heartbreaking way. The spark that has supported him till that moment is inexorably dimming. There is no more will in his devastated being. Enwrapped in a cartilage that is becoming more and more rigid, his body is stiffening, and each breath costs him indescribable efforts. So, to spare him as much pain as possible, the boy is usually kept in an artificial torpor; but today is THE day, and Hermione dares awaken him.

"He—mione," he murmurs when his eyes open to light; his lips laboriously curl in an almost imperceptible smile, as even the muscles of his jaws are stiffening. Tears twinkle, and he whispers words that come out like gentle puffs, impossible to decipher for anybody else than the girl at his side.

"Hermione… I'm so glad you came… I was afraid to… to leave without… seeing you one… last time."

"Ron," she murmurs, as always speechless before such horrible pain; tears tremble in her voice, and a frightening doubt fills her mind: what if the potion should fail? With infinite tenderness, her fingers gently stroke his hair while he tries to tell her, in stumbling sentences, the unimaginable horrors his illness is inflicting on him. And finally her forefinger rests on his lips, gently stopping his troubled speech. It's time to act. And again, remembering Severus, her heart twinges in apprehension.

"Ron…" She hesitates, weighing her words and struggling with the panic that is biting her stomach. "I've come to tell you something important."

In the meantime, behind her back, Arthur has silently climbed the stairs, followed by an equally anxious Molly. The two unlucky parents seem to have perceived that there is something going on, something different, and they are holding their breaths while they stare worriedly at the two youngsters. Acutely conscious of their presence, Hermione imagines their faces, their expectation… and prays that the miracle may repeat itself.

More and more fatigued, Ron resumes his speaking in a heartbreaking way, trying to hide his disillusionment for what he thinks is a kind way to announce to him the loss of all their hopes.

"Don't worry… It doesn't… matter… I know… you did… your best, Hermione… Just stay with me..."

"No! Ron! Ron! Please listen! We succeeded! We found a potion! I experimented with it on myself. My face was healed, Ron." She hears Arthur and Molly gasp in unison, but she doesn't stop. "It worked with me and with Remus. Now it's your turn."

With a smile a bit spoiled by the tears in her eyes, she presents him the goblet and a straw. "Try to drink it, Ron. Please!"

"Mind what you are asking, Hermione!" exclaims Molly at that point, joining her hands in an unconscious prayer, unable to repress her feelings any longer. "He can't swallow properly!"

And bursting in sobs that reveal her anguish and her desperation for a remedy arrived so late, she adds with a wavering voice, "His throat is closing. Even a drop could kill him!"

Exhausted but determined, a new energy sparkling in his eyes, the boy slowly opens his mouth. "Let me… try…," he whispers fiercely.

Offering her much greater experience to assist him, his mother is immediately at his side.

Drop after drop, the liquid is bravely sipped under the anxious gazes of Hermione and Arthur. Knowing how nauseating the potion tastes, Hermione chews her lip, following each move and unconsciously swallowing with Ron.

And finally, the goblet is empty, and Ron squeezes his eyes. "Yech! It's awful!" the boy complains as soon as the straw is removed from his mouth. And turning away his face, he grimaces in disgust.

"RON!" Molly cries. "You… you moved your head!"

The boy stares at his mother with a surprised face; slowly, he raises a hand, looks at it with an even more surprised expression. Then he turns it towards the silent group around his bed, and smiling uncertainly, he waves his fingers in a greeting.

"Ron!" Molly bursts into sobs, hugging tightly her son while Ron's smile steadies and widens in a grin that grows more and more exultant.

"Ron!" Arthur articulates, strangled by an intense emotion.

"Ron…" Hermione murmurs, and she can't say anything else. She just contemplates him while tears of joy quietly trickle down on her cheeks.

….

The most disparate feelings have filled the room with a regenerating stream. Everybody is simply overwhelmed, and questions and answers cross themselves in the air. A smiling Hermione is asked to tell, to explain, and obediently, she repeats her (arranged) story at least three times; but Molly and Arthur are so focused on their born again son that half of what the girl says is lost. But finally, explanations and thanks and hugs are over, and the two youngsters are left alone - _only a few moments, dearest, Ron is still too weak, and he must rest before he can recover completely!_ - to share their immense happiness. And then, a more private dialog follows.

"Ron… I still can't believe it…," the girl whispers, touching his cheek hesitantly as if afraid to hurt him.

"You did it, Hermione!" In spite of his extreme debility, Ron gathers all his strength to express his admiration to his girlfriend. "I knew you would succeed! You are… fantastic!"

The girl takes a serious expression. "Thanks, Ron, but as I was telling your parents, I didn't do everything by myself. Professor Snape was a great help, without him I wouldn't have—"

Ron stops her words by hugging her, vibrating in love. It's clear that he couldn't care less about helpers. But Hermione goes on stubbornly. "And it wasn't so simple. We found the potion but it required a catalyst to develop its power."

"A catalyst?" he asks with a sudden spark of interest. "You never told me anything about that! What do you mean?"

"An ingredient. A precious ingredient that only a human being can supply. With a… a sacrifice."

Suddenly, he dilates his eyes in a disconcerted spark. "You mean a human sacrifice? But… But…"

A sudden horror chokes him, and the girl smiles sadly. "Yes. That's why I didn't tell you. Because it was dangerous. But then I spoke to Snape, and he agreed to—"

"To sacrifice himself?" Ron sounds even more disconcerted.

"No. He agreed to help me and—"

His eyes widen. "Don't tell me that he wanted you to sacrifice yourself!"

"Don't be silly!" Hermione reacts impulsively. Then her voice softens once more. "However, I admit that initially that was MY intention. But he didn't let me."

"He didn't let you…" Ron repeats, perplexed; then he smiles a knowing smile. "He found another solution, didn't he? I mean, he was a Death Eater, so he surely knew…"

He sees her eyes, so unexpectedly sad, and he can't conclude his sentence; therefore, feeling embarrassed, the boy is eager to add a hopeful comment to close the topic. "Well, in the end, he too has been healed, hasn't he?"

"No…" She lowers her head. "The potion didn't work for him."

The boy is disconcerted again, and he glances at his girlfriend.

"Hermione!" he exclaims frowningly.

"I'm sorry, Ron. You shouldn't think that I am not happy. But you see, it's so… so unfair. Though in a different way from you," and this time is her turn to hug the boy tightly, "Professor Snape is ill. And I wanted everybody to be healed…"

Another silence follows.

"I suppose you are right, Hermione," Ron finally declares, and this time his voice is as serious as hers. "But… I would have never thought that it was possible to feel sorry for Snape. He was always hateful to us."

"He protected Harry when he was in school. He sheltered us in the dungeons."

"But he looked so nasty!"

"He had to pretend. He was forced to simulate in order to deceive the Dark Lord and us at the same time. But he is not as nasty as he seems."

….

The most heart-warming reactions happen when these incredible results – the simultaneous healing of Remus and Ron – are divulged to an incredulous, selected audience. Poppy cries. Minerva sobs. Vibrating in emotion, Filius is forced to leave the room and compose himself. As soon as the news is unfolded, many of the other professors experience similar reactions. How many joyful tears are shed on that day! How many…

Only Harry's eyes remain dry. Watching Hermione, he affectionately shakes his head in disbelief, commenting quietly, "So, that's why you were acting so secretively and spending so much time with Snape? You should have told me, Hermione! Though I am not as good as you in brewing a potion, I would have liked to lend a hand."

Embarrassed, she hasn't found the courage to tell him and the other happily celebrating people the real truth, that is, that only an unexpected circumstance has prevented Snape's and her efforts to end in tragedy.

Even more important, nobody has been informed of the true reason why Snape's camera – a jewel of wizarding technology – has been damaged so badly as to become unusable. Honouring the silent deal between her and Severus, Hermione has talked of an accident in the dungeons while they were brewing the potion.

Not very convinced, Poppy has asked many questions, and Hermione has immediately served her the report as agreed with Severus, obviously a filtered version of the facts. The little mediwitch lets Hermione clearly understand that she doesn't believe it, but in the end, Pomfrey doesn't insist with her query. She only tilts her head watching Hermione with her peculiar, eloquent frown; so the girl adds with a meek smile, "Evidently, part of your knowledge must have remained in my brain after the Polyjuice."

Suddenly reminded of the weird transformation to which Hermione subjected herself in order to enter St. Mungo's, Poppy can't suppress a smile and finally ends by embracing the girl.

And then… then everybody focuses on Severus, the only one still prisoner of the evil hex cast by Voldemort; the only one who is not participating in the happy announcement, the only one who is still locked in his rooms. Laughs and conversations slowly decrease, and the merry crowd leaves, each one pondering the most different considerations according to their different feelings towards the blind wizard.

….

Exactly a week later, Hermione walks absentmindedly in the corridors. Her thoughts are absorbing her so much that she doesn't notice the perplexed faces of the students who cross her path, and who are whispering and exchanging glances while they look at her so uncharacteristically dreamy expression. But she doesn't see them. Her mind is focused on what has happened in these last, incredible days, and she smiles, reliving the memories and losing herself in the most wonderful sensations.

Then, once more, she thinks of Snape, alone and hopeless in his rooms, and she darkens again. There is still an immense obstacle to overcome, and her will has literally bumped against it, and keeps bumping against it every day. The questions to be answered are few, yet they are essential to find a solution. What if the potion should require to be "customised" by more powerful tears than the ones she shed that day? And if tears were the key, how would Snape's stony eyes ever produce a drop? How could he be saved?

This is the actual dilemma, and she promises herself to solve it at any cost.

….

In the meantime, life slowly settles down in its usual path, and those who have been healed begin savouring again the simple joys of being once more part of the world.

Only Severus has become very quiet, very apathetic, very indifferent. He doesn't talk, unless questioned. He doesn't move, unless requested. Sometimes he doesn't even eat, to the house-elves' great horror… and to Minerva, Poppy and Hermione's concern. Though denying his suffering with a shrug when speaking with his helpers, he has retreated again in his small suffocating dark world. And in the evenings, he sits by the fire and tries to convince himself that all is well that ends well. But his spirit rages and bleeds in silence for the immense injustice.

….

Unexpectedly, on a crisp winter morning, Minerva makes an astounding discovery. Opening the first drawer in her desk – the headmaster's desk – she finds an unknown rolled parchment. She opens it and reads with joy mixed with sadness the words that Albus Dumbledore wrote and that clear Severus Snape of any guilt while revealing Dumbledore's full responsibility in planning his own murder.

Informed by Minerva, Severus reacts with another of his weary shrugs, leaving the old witch saddened and puzzled. But the wizard doesn't find anything to celebrate in these sentences written by the man who has condemned him to a life of misery. Furthermore, in spite of what Albus' portrait promised, that parchment isn't going to change an iota in Severus' life: he has already been forgotten by the wizarding community. Day after day, his existence is a mere act of survival. A matter of will. But his will now is tired and weakened.

Yet, other things begin to happen immediately after, as if an old, jammed mechanism had finally started to work again.

After sending a flourished message to Minerva, Rufus Scrimgeour and Cornelius Fudge come to the castle. Their meeting with the Headmistress starts with an embarrassed speech from the two men. Minerva watches them attentively, tightening her lips in her usual stern expression. But, when with his brisk, straight manners, the Minister admits that, in their visit to Snape at the hospital, they evidently made a mistake, she smiles rigidly and finally accepts Rufus' apologies on behalf of Severus.

The Minister can't obviously suppose it, but there is another very special reason for Minerva's indulgence, and it's connected to an event that only a few people know. Since she received the message of the Ministry, the headmistress understood that the mission of those two important men must be another of the effects originated by the destruction of Bellatrix's wand. Now that the evil influence of the dark stick has been destroyed, the Minister has come back to his usual frank behaviour, unaware of the sinister power that has controlled him in the past months through Arthur Weasley's proximity.

And in fact, the two visitors do their best in the hope of deleting the nasty offences they only vaguely remember to have inflicted to the "most praiseworthy Professor Snape". Yet, Severus sits inertly for the whole encounter, refusing to utter more than a few words. Only when Cornelius opens a new parchment and confirms that a fabulous pension has effectively been granted to the "most valorous of our war heroes, second only to Harry Potter", Severus' heart beats a bit more hurriedly for a moment. But simply because he has just discovered to have been supported, fed and dressed for all those months at the kind people's around him expense. And he mutely reddens in wounded pride.

….

Later, in his rooms, Severus focuses again on the conversation. Everybody seemed so sincerely concerned about him… but why? Why is he so important? What happened that made all those people change their opinions? He is always the same Severus Snape. Nothing has changed. And yet, people seem to see things about him that he himself never noticed. It must be opportunism, he coldly decides. And perhaps remorse. Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger… they have all been healed. And finally his rage explodes. Why, why, why they have been so lucky? After all, they have been hit by the same Dark Lord! So, why, why, why didn't the potion work on him? The sacrifice was his! He is the one who lost his precious camera and his sight for the second time!

Moving randomly in the darkness, his hands find the parchment that Cornelius had so ceremoniously placed in his hands only a few hours before, and that Severus had instead disdainfully thrown on his desk as soon as he had reached his room. Methodically, systematically, he lacerates the precious document in many little strips, then he crumples them in balls that are violently scattered on the floor.

Finally, exhausted by his inner emotions, he relaxes heavily in his armchair and buries his face in his hands in a gesture that has become one of his characteristics.

Enough.

Enough of tempting his luck.

This is what fate has decided. And he will accept it.

Blind.

Forever.

…. ... ... ...

**Note:**

_Just two chapters to the end. My wonderful beta has completed her revision, so I will post them in the next days._


	25. Look in Your Heart to Find the Answers

**A Matter of Will**

_by Lady Memory_

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer**__: I obviously don't own any one of the recognizable characters in this story, even if I would like to._

_As always, my heartfelt thanks to my wonderful previewer __**Tearsofphoenix**__ and to my fabulous betas __**Nagandsev**__ and **Duj** for their kind revision, useful suggestions and infinite patience. _

_All my sincere thanks to those reading and reviewing__._**_  
_**

**IMPORTANT MESSAGE: Please remember that this is an AU story, written before book 7. Therefore, Severus never fell in love with Lily, but they were only friends.**

**... ... ...**

**Chapter 24 – Look in Your Heart to Find the Answers**

Though Severus seems to have yielded to his fate, Hermione isn't resigned. Every day she comes to visit him, and every day she tells him about her progress, trying to comfort him with her determination, her perseverance and her hope. And with her continual cheerful chatter.

"Next time it will be your turn, Professor. It must be. There must be another ingredient, a step that we haven't considered… We just need to find it, and I'm sure we will."

In the end, he gets irritated. One morning, he even reacts violently.

"It's over, don't you see? The spell is unbreakable, and there's no use in wasting your time! Go away, you and your damn chattiness!" he yells at that maddening optimism.

She seems to be silenced, but that silence only lasts a few moments. Then he feels her arms tighten around him in an impulsive burst of affection.

"It won't be over while there is hope," she whispers, releasing her hug and running away before he can let out his temper.

"Don't you dare again!" he succeeds in shouting, but the sweet sensation of that kind gesture warms his spirit for the rest of the evening.

... ... ... ... ... ...

Now that he tends to stay in his rooms, a few other people come to visit him regularly. Minerva usually spends a part of her busy evenings talking with him. Sometimes Poppy brings him out for a walk, as she used to do in their hospital days. Lupin and Tonks have paid him an extremely embarrassed visit. As soon as his health has improved enough to allow him the trip, Ron has followed immediately after, hand in hand with Hermione, and to his great surprise, Severus has been unexpectedly kind with the couple.

Another visitor is Harry, who is learning to manage his exceptional magical skills. In spite of his gloominess, and loyal to his promise, Severus has stubbornly continued his lessons to the boy, helping him to improve his power. Yet, after the last events, something has subtly altered in their relationship, which now seems to be gradually returning to the stiff, guarded approach of their school days. But Poppy has ascribed that change to the extreme depression of the older wizard, and Minerva has bowed to her opinion. Special courses have been instituted for the three young heroes definitively back at school, and life inside the castle has resumed its somnolent path, like a quiet stream suspended in time.

Then, finally, Hermione has had an intuition, something so peculiar, something so… "private", that she doesn't even try to submit her intention to Severus. But she goes and finds Harry in the library; she speaks to him in the quietness of those rooms. Her idea is so simple that she wonders why she hasn't thought about it till that moment. In short, as she explains to the boy, the potion has worked for everybody except Professor Snape. Evidently, Hermione's tears weren't a strong enough catalyst. The hex that hit Professor Snape was unusually ferocious, and surely it requires an identically powerful ingredient.

There is only one wizard who has the power to counteract that curse, Hermione concludes, so the tears must be shed by him. Then she looks at Harry expectantly.

The boy has listened to her detailed explanation in silence, but at that point, he replies with much more vehemence than she expected.

"My… my _tears_? What made you think that _that_ could work, Hermione?"

"It's clear that you and Professor Snape share a special relationship. You both joined your forces to destroy the Dark Lord in the dungeons. And when your spell condemned Voldemort to death, he reacted by hitting Severus."

"I wish you wouldn't call him Severus," Harry interrupts her through gritted teeth.

"Oh, come on, Harry! I thought you had learned to appreciate Snape…"

"Hermione, though now I can understand him better, Severus Snape is the man who condemned my parents. By reporting the prophecy to Voldemort, he signed their death."

"I know it, Harry. And I know that this event has changed the whole course of his life."

"You mean that I should be grateful because by betraying my parents he has become a better person?

"Good heavens, Harry! I'm not saying this. It's just that… that he has changed. And if he could change also what happened by offering his life, he would do it."

"You seem to know a lot of things. When have you become his therapist?"

"I talked with him while researching the potion. What I could see is a totally different man from the one we knew in school. Something has broken inside him."

"Perhaps you are right. Perhaps it's true. But what _I_ could see is a man who keeps rejecting those around him. Don't forget that he refused my offer when I initially went to the hospital. And he was always nasty to me in school."

"That was Snape _before_. This is Snape _now_," the girl replies a bit harshly.

"We are talking of the same man!"

"Yes, the wizard who saved your life!"

"Exactly. I respect the wizard, but I don't like the man."

"I tell you that he is changed."

"What evidence can you give me?"

"The camera, Harry. Our camera. Nobody knows it, but it wasn't an accident. He deliberately broke it to avoid my death. And doing so, he lost his sight."

"Well, I admit that he can be brave, that he IS brave. But there is nothing else in his heart. And he must have surely considered that, with a bit of luck, we could supply him with a new camera."

"He knows that our machine is an extremely expensive device, Harry. Even worse, he knows that YOU paid for it. But, all apart, that's not what he wants. He is not going to ask for another camera, and if we should ever offer him a new one, he would probably refuse it."

The boy shrugs. "His choice! Certainly not mine. That camera was a way to pay him back for what he did for me in the dungeons, but if he refuses it… "

Hermione looks at him with a shocked face.

"You still don't trust him after all he's done? Don't tell me you only helped him because you didn't want to owe him!"

"Oh, come on, Hermione!" Harry explodes in irritation. "I am not saying that… I only wanted… However, even if I had the intention to help him… my _tears_? How should I ever be supposed to _cry_ for Snape? I'm sorry, but what you ask is impossible."

Tightening her lips, Hermione goes away in an offended silence. Harry doesn't try to stop her, but keeps staring at her back without saying a word, an obstinate, resentful expression on his face.

... ... ... ... ... ...

Two days later, on a rainy evening. Silent as always, hands resting on his walking cane, Severus is sitting near the fireplace, in the hall where he usually spends his time before retreating to bed. And, as every evening, with her calm gait Minerva enters the room, and detecting the dark shade lingering in an armchair, she goes sitting near him.

Unnoticed by the two adults, Harry too is enjoying a moment of relaxation in a distant corner of the hall, so as soon as he hears the voices and understands who are the people involved in the conversation, he immediately straightens, preparing to leave the place. But in spite of his choice, after that first impulsive move, his resolution somehow weakens, and he stops, looking around in indecision.

"Are you feeling better this evening, Severus?" the headmistress is now asking kindly. "How was your day?"

"As always, Minerva," Snape replies quietly. "My life isn't but a reiteration."

"I see." She sighs inwardly, and then she immediately launches a counterattack to his inertia. "Have you considered going out for a walk as you used to do? You could go have a drink at the Three Broomsticks. I'm sure you would enjoy resuming your old habits."

"Honestly, Minerva, I don't know. Life as it was before is something so far in time…"

"Is there something that worries you, Severus?" the old witch continues softly, trying to encourage her former colleague to speak. The wizard's mood today reflects the storm that is raging out of the windows, and Minerva is concerned for that transformation after all those days spent in total apathy.

"I can't stop thinking, Minerva. There is a thought that will stay with me for the rest of my life."

"Is it painful?"

A hesitation, and then the answer, harsh and weary at the same time. "Yes."

"Perhaps you would like to tell me?" she gently insists.

At this point, for some strange reason, Harry feels compelled to listen. He knows that he is intruding in something private, yet he can't resist. Silently, he crouches on the floor, hidden behind a big armchair.

Snape seems to struggle with himself, as if already regretting his admission, and finally, he mutters a couple of sentences, the less compromising. "Well, I… I think that I have been punished for my mistakes. My life has been marked the day I decided to join the Dark Lord."

She smiles comfortingly, hoping that the warmth of her smile may reach him through her words. "But then you changed your vision, and you became a hero. I think that we will never thank you adequately for your commitment."

He shakes his head stubbornly.

"No, Minerva," he tries to explain, clenching his hands in the effort of finding the words. "Before coming back, I contributed to harming people. Innocent people. And then… and then I heard the prophecy and reported it to the Dark Lord. Albus shouldn't have let me go free. If he had stopped me, punished me, hexed me as I deserved…"

The old witch straightens herself in determination. "That wouldn't have changed anything, Severus. The Dark Lord wanted to create an empire, and he would have continued, with or without you. You put an obstacle in his way by telling him that there was a rival."

He sighs again and his shoulders slump. "You are kind, Minerva. But by telling him the future, I condemned two people. Now, I admit that I always detested James Potter… but Lily…"

He stops and swallows; then he opens his hands in a gesture of submission.

"So, I think that that is what I deserved. Justice. A merciful justice. They lost their lives. I lost my eyes. I will have time to think and repent. A lot of time. I see things better now that I'm blind."

She understands that he is not ready to tell her more, so she tries to switch to a safer subject.

"Tell me, Severus, how are Harry's lessons going?"

The wizard reacts with unexpected energy to the question. Something seems to have suddenly ignited inside him, a sort of spark that lightens his features.

"That boy is amazing. His power is developing with such strength! The Dark Lord really found a worthy adversary. But that's not the important thing. He… I… I owe him."

"You owe him?" Minerva is very careful in choosing the right intonation in order to avoid a sharp interruption of his train of thoughts. And in fact, the man goes on as if following an inner thread.

"I… I have devastated Harry's life. My fault has changed my entire existence, and that is a consequence that I must accept. But it also changed Harry's fate, and he was innocent. I owe him his past."

Minerva tries to be as rational as possible. "Well, have you ever considered what would have happened if the Dark Lord hadn't discovered the prophecy?"

"Ah… Albus perhaps would know… I never dared ask him. Perhaps Potter would still have his parents."

"Or perhaps not. Perhaps they would have fallen by the hands of the Dark Lord in any case. After all, the Longbottoms were condemned by a merciless fate as well. Alive but insane."

"However, Minerva, sometimes I think that their destiny has been better than mine. They fell for a right reason. But my faults are always before me, and there is no way to change them. I have considered the matter in these months. If I were Harry, I would detest the man who deprived me of my family. Yet he even tried to speak to me when I was in the hospital… and I rejected him. My pride blinded me more than the Dark Lord's hex."

"You are too harsh with yourself, Severus. You made a mistake, a big mistake. But you also did your best to make amends."

"It wasn't enough," he resists obstinately.

"Severus," she whispers, putting a hand tentatively on his arm.

"No, Minerva, I don't deserve your compassion. Months ago I asked you if you pitied me, do you remember?"

"I do. And I can tell you again that we are all proud and grateful to have you here."

"All except the only one who could make the difference."

"You mean Harry?"

He seems to suddenly abandon the struggle. "I don't mean anybody, Minerva. Please let's stop talking. It's late and I feel very tired. I'll go to sleep as soon as my house-elf comes."

Minerva smiles a pale smile that, again, he can't obviously see. So, she tries to let him understand that she cares by adjusting his robes. Motionless, he lets her straighten his collar, insensitive to the fingers that delicately brush his hair while doing so. And finally she asks, "Are you sure you don't want me to lead you to your room?"

"No… no, thank you, Minerva. I will wait, don't worry."

"Good night then, Severus. I'm sorry I wasn't of help," she whispers.

"You are always of help," he whispers back.

The witch leaves, her robes brushing softly the floor. As soon as she is far enough, Severus sighs and lowers his head.

And, cautiously, Harry comes out of his hiding place.

... ... ... ... ... ...

Severus stiffens immediately. His keen senses have alerted him, but he doesn't react after that first move. There cannot be dangers in Hogwarts, not now that Bellatrix's wand has been destroyed… and then, he has perceived the amazing energy coming from Harry.

Harry, who doesn't know what to say.

So, after a long silence broken only by the crackling sounds of the fire, Severus speaks first.

"Anything you need, Potter?"

Harry hesitates. Apart from the oddity of being so suddenly recognised by a blind man, there are many things he would like to say; but where to begin from? The memory of their first encounter in the hospital awakens, yet this time there is a calmer, subtler power flowing to and from him.

"I have heard everything you told Professor McGonagall," he finally admits. "She didn't notice that I was here."

Snape tightens his lips. "So, you know everything by now."

"Er… yes."

"Then there is nothing to be added."

"Oh no! There is still a lot to say!"

Silence falls again while the rain seems to whip the windows even more ferociously.

"Well, I'm waiting, Potter. It's your turn to speak now. If you have listened carefully to our conversation, you should know that nothing you may say can hurt me more than my past actions."

Harry keeps silent. For the very first time, he seems to really see the man in front of him. His eyes linger on the harsh features of Severus Snape, traitor, saviour, curse and blessing of the wizarding world. Suddenly, the weight of what those titles imply seems to rest heavily on him, and he watches every little scar, every wrinkle, every line of that rigid face, realising that that severe frown, that ironic smile have been shaped by years of suffering.

And while he waits, still uncertain, a sudden image reaches his mind. A very young Severus Snape alone in a room, face white like chalk. Albus Dumbledore, a slightly younger Dumbledore than the one Harry has known, is silently speaking with Snape, telling him something that makes the young man vacillate. Snape's face is a mask of horror, and when Dumbledore leaves, he kneels on the floor. Tears flow unstoppably from his eyes, wetting the stones; his gasping sobs and shaking hands reveal such an anguished torment that Harry instinctively backs off.

He comes back to the present only when Snape speaks again, and somehow Harry understands that they have shared the same vision.

"Your mother was dead and it was my fault. You never knew her, and yet you mourn her loss. But she… she was my best friend for many years, until I decided to choose the dark side. Can you imagine _my_ pain?"

The question is asked so quietly that Harry almost doesn't grasp it. Severus' eyes are dead, so the boy focuses his attention on the expression conveyed by the wizard's lips, disdainfully curled down.

Snape's voice breaks while he slowly lowers his head.

"You are right to despise me, Potter. It's what I too have done since that doomed night."

... ... ... ... ... ...

It's late, but Hermione is still working in the potions room, surrounded by books and parchments and notes. Her face is tired but her eyes shine with determination. She is so focused on her task that, when the door slowly opens, for several moments she doesn't notice the dark silhouette standing out against the light.

"Harry!"

The boy is motionless under the doorframe and watches Hermione with reddened eyes and a hesitant expression, keeping something luminous in his hand.

"Hermione…," he begins to say, and his voice gradually strengthens while he speaks. "Here you have the tears you asked. Use them! Immediately, if you can."

"But how… What happened, Harry?" she asks with a voice tinged by concern.

To her surprise, Harry bursts in an embarrassed laughter. "It doesn't matter now, Hermione. If these tears may help healing Snape, then use them. But please be as quick as possible."

And he hands out to her a crystal vial.

Silence falls for a long moment.

"Why?" she finally asks with a very soft voice.

"Because I… Because I want to look at the nasty bastard straight in the eye!"

Yet, in spite of the crudeness of those words and his reddened eyes, Harry smiles. And Hermione smiles back in silence, until an intense joy compels her to fling her arms at his friend, tightening him in an embrace.

... ... ... ... ... ...

So, once again, Hermione is working on the potion under the trembling light of the torches, with the precious vial on a desk at her side, ready to be picked at the right moment.

Slowly, she recreates the potion, following carefully every step. And finally she uncorks the vial, watching Harry's tears glow like shining gems before dropping them in the boiling mixture.

An unexpected, immense emotion enfolds her spirit; moved by the power of that feeling, she too begins to cry, but this time she's careful to wipe her tears before they can reach the bubbling liquid. Slowly, she keeps stirring it, waiting anxiously for a difference, for a sign.

And finally she sees it.

... ... ... ... ... ...

The girl who knocks at Snape's door is struggling to keep her anxiety under control. She is very aware that, if this attempt should fail, she would feel hopeless. And desperate. And she is even more conscious that Snape's spirit would probably be definitely doomed. The problem is that Severus too knows that. How to face him?

"Professor," she calls, trying to steady her voice.

"Miss Granger," is the weary answer. "It's late. Couldn't you wait till tomorrow morning? What's the matter? A new astounding idea?"

"Actually, it's a new formula. And I expect it to work, this time."

"A new… formula?" he asks, and for a moment his voice wavers. Then disbelief hardens his tone, and he returns to his usual sarcasm. "Well, as I supposed, nothing that can't wait till tomorrow."

"I said a _new_ formula. And I want you to try it right now!" she replies firmly.

The door opens with a sudden jerk and Severus appears, arms crossed and a threatening frown. "Now, aren't you an insufferable pest! Do you ever take into consideration that I could disagree?"

"Impossible." She smiles. "I value your mind too highly for that."

"Miss Granger, I'm thoroughly fed up by your disrespectful behaviour!"

"Nice try, Professor. But you must try harder if you want me to leave."

"Miss Granger…" he suddenly abandons any pretence of sarcasm. "Why do you keep torturing me?"

"Because I want you to be healed."

"Nonsense, Granger. If it were a matter of will, I would have been healed months ago."

"But that is not a matter of will. Do you really think that your will is the only thing that matters in your life?"

"Miss Granger, why don't you marry your idiotic boyfriend and go live happily together in a place far, far away, thus sparing me the joy of your conversation?"

"Because I want you to be my witness at our wedding."

He straightens. "That's ridiculous! Is this how you hope to convince me? That's an utterly frivolous idea that only a feminine mind could conceive."

Her voice becomes cold. "The goblet is in my hands. Are you sure you want to refuse?"

Temptation is strong, but his pride is equally strong.

"As I told you, it's a matter of will. And my will—"

"Your will _will_ obey, for once!" she orders. He stiffens but he doesn't reply. She places the goblet in his hands.

"Now drink it!" she commands.

"Miss Granger…," his tone now reveals all his fear, "But what if… if…"

"That's the right one," she replies, affecting a confidence that she suddenly doesn't feel.

Subjugated, he lets out a deep sigh. Then, he swallows the mixture in almost one gulp.

What happens after is a nightmare.

... ... ... ... ... ...

Severus curls and begins to tremble so violently that Hermione is scared.

"Professor!" she cries.

But he can't answer, because while his body writhes and shakes under the power of the potion, the most extraordinary transformation happens. Gradually, the stony layers that envelope his eyes start to crack. Blades of light reach his pupils, and Severus presses his fingers on his eyelids, uselessly trying to stop the unbearable radiance.

His choked moans are so painful that Hermione, frightened, places a hand on his arm in the hope of relieving his torment. But, as soon as the girl touches him, he feels the tight shell around his eyes literally explode.

With a sharp cry, Severus tilts his head, as if frightened by the light he has so desperately searched. Then he opens his eyes, and the first thing he sees is the terrified face of Hermione Granger.

"You scared me, Professor… Are you well?" the girl asks with a tiny, trembling voice, looking at him in apprehension.

Severus is overwhelmed by an immense emotion. His sight is back. HIS SIGHT IS BACK! Shapes, colours, images, shades… his eyes look at the things around him, and the rush and clatter of clashing sensation nearly make him stagger...

His sight is back! The potion has worked! He is finally free! And he owes that miracle to the annoyingly stubborn girl anxiously waiting for his answer.

Feeling suddenly euphoric, Severus straightens himself.

"I'm well, Miss Granger," he replies, steadying his voice in a display of British composure. "And, incidentally, my sight is back, though—"

He can't end his sentence: with a small cry of joy, tears running down her cheeks, Hermione tightens him in a bone-crushing hug. Almost choked in that heartwarming embrace, Severus pauses, and finally, gloriously, tears begin to wet his cheeks too.

... ... ...

**NOTE:** Well, wasn't it time? I hope you enjoyed the chapter... Personally, I too would have liked to hug Severus (and Hermione) when I wrote the final lines. See you for the grand finale in a few days :)


	26. The Things That Really Matter

**A Matter of Will**

_by Lady Memory_

_The war is over, and now Severus Snape has to face his worst enemy: himself._

_**Disclaimer**__: I obviously don't own any one of the recognizable characters in this story, even if I would like to._

_Dear friends, I have finally written the last words of a story that began in 2007 and that is especially dear to my heart because it was my first attempt on Fanfiction. I hope you will enjoy. _

_As always, my heartfelt thanks to my wonderful previewers __**Tearsofphoenix**__ and __**Duj**__, and to my fabulous beta __**Nagandsev**__ for their kind revision, useful suggestions and infinite patience. All my sincere thanks to those reading and reviewing._

_... ... ..._

**Chapter 25 – The Things That Really Matter **

It's even later when somebody knocks at the door of the room in which Harry Potter sits in silence, apparently lost in contemplation of his desk.

Startled by the sound, the boy raises his head.

"Come in!" he answers while he wipes his eyes as if awakening from a dream. But his expression changes immediately into an alert look when the door opens and reveals who is standing under the doorframe.

"Hermione?" he asks hesitantly, and many different emotions are mixed in that question.

Though her cheeks are still wet with tears, Hermione Granger enters the room with a joyful smile. But along with her, comes a dark, tall, imposing man that Harry knows all too well, a man whose fresh, confident stance radiates a sort of indefinite power that disconcerts the boy.

"Professor Snape...," Harry greets uncertainly, rising from his chair. And suddenly, he understands.

"You can see again!" he exclaims while a deep emotion makes his voice waver.

The older man bows his head in acknowledgment.

"I hope you will forgive the late hour, Potter, but I wanted to thank you as soon as possible. I know that you supplied the main ingredient for my recovery and I can imagine…"

Here Snape seems to lose his voice for a moment, then he continues softly, "And I can imagine how much this must have cost to you."

Harry lowers his head. When he raises it again, there is a teardrop trickling down on his cheek.

"It wasn't so difficult, in the end," he says with a voice that he is trying bravely to steady. "As you can see, I've become a weeper lately."

"I have been denied the soothing comfort of tears for too much time to laugh at you," Snape replies gravely; then he turns to Hermione.

"Miss Granger, my debt to you is equally huge, and I hope to find a way to thank you appropriately. But now, as a special favour, would you please let me and Mr. Potter have a word alone?"

Hermione hesitates; then, understanding the reason of the request, she nods in assent and silently leaves.

The two men look at each other, Harry pale and lost in a sort of haziness, Snape immensely composed.

"Mr. Potter," Snape says quietly. "Only a few hours ago, you left me in a fury, yelling that you wanted to look me straight in the eyes. I think that that moment has arrived."

Harry stares at Snape, and then he turns to glance at his desk on which - as Snape suddenly realises - there is a picture of James and Lily Potter. The couple is smiling and waving their hands at the boy as if encouraging him; the scene has a heartbreakingly odd effect, as parents and son look almost same age.

It is Snape's turn to pale now while he contemplates his old schoolmates, and especially the young girl who seems to smile at him too.

"I wish that we could talk like friends again, Lily," he murmurs with a strangled voice. "Last time we spoke, you cut me out of your life and your friendship. And you were right. I was making a big mistake. But I didn't know that I was condemning you and your family when I reported the prophecy. My life has been miserable since that moment. I wish I could ask you for your forgiveness. But since you are no more here, I will address my plea to your son."

The boy stiffens in surprise at those incredible words.

"Potter… Harry. Please listen. I dedicated my life to redeem my faults and to pay my debt to your parents, but the balance is still imbalanced. You saved my life in the dungeons, and this was undeserved because I was supposed to save yours."

"And you did it, Professor," Harry replies softly. "Many times."

Shaking his head in denial, Snape raises his hand to stop the boy.

"Those times don't count. They were parts of my commitment. Elements of my penitence. And then, you didn't save only my life. Tonight you gave me back also my eyes, and my debt grew to enormous proportions: by restoring my sight, you saved my spirit… and for that there is no reward, no big enough compensation."

This time it is Harry who stops Snape; his voice altered by a strong emotion. "Then you should thank Hermione, Professor. She is the one who was ready to sacrifice herself."

"I will indeed, Potter. But you come first because my obligation to you is older, and because my wrong choices made you lose your family. You saved me, Potter, so now I return my life into your hands. I will bow to your words, whatever you decide."

Visibly shaken, Harry takes a deep breath.

"I have hated you, Professor, and you know it. We have detested each other for years, and I admit that there have been moments in which I would have liked to kill you. Professor Dumbledore's portrait explained everything to me when it was too late."

The boy now speaks with a sort of desperation. "I have been thinking a lot after that day when Hermione asked for my tears. It seemed to me that I was betraying my parents again by offering you a… a chance that they didn't have the time and the luck to be offered. By refusing my help, I thought that I was redressing an injustice. I thought that their death could be balanced by your blindness. I thought that I would finally feel at peace."

Snape has paled during this vehement speech and closes his eyes at the last words that sound like an accusation and a cruel reminder.

But Harry shakes his head and his voice gets softer. "I was wrong. I was totally wrong. There is neither joy nor pleasure in retaliation."

Now the boy is looking firmly at his old antagonist.

"Our discussion opened my eyes too, Professor. The words you said have lessened my pain and erased my anger. You have suffered enough."

The boy looks embarrassed but continues bravely. "I am glad I could help you."

His eyes turn to glance at the picture, and his features soften. "I'm sure that my mother would be as glad as me."

... ... ... ... ... ...

Hogwarts celebrates the hero, who has just come back from a descent into hell, with a joyful feast: a banquet, guests and a touching speech from the headmistress. The celebration is nothing too excessive, because the hero in question is longing for normality in his life.

And normality seems to finally enwrap all those involved in the dark story of suffering and redemption created by Voldemort's hexes.

Harry is going to complete his course, and then he will leave to join the Aurors. Obviously, Ron will go with him. Both plan to marry as soon as possible. Remus and Tonks have already inaugurated that new splendid path, but Hermione and Ron should follow next, at the end of school.

Ron was a bit shocked when he discovered who Hermione intended to have as a witness at their wedding, but Harry offered to counterbalance by being Ron's best man. So everybody is happy now.

To be honest, Severus Snape has tried several times to oppose being involved in such an event, but his resistance has disappeared after a talk with Minerva, who is also going to be Hermione's witness with him.

Now that he is well again and respected for the role he played in the wizarding war, Remus has finally found work in a training centre for problematic magical youths. Tonks keeps being an Auror and often teases Harry and Ron, threatening them with vivid descriptions of what is expected of them.

Severus Snape isn't teaching yet, though Minerva offered him the job immediately. For he has asked to delay his starting for a while, as he is busy with a very special secret project that he is conducting in collaboration with St. Mungo's. Minerva widened her eyes at that explanation, but she didn't object, happy to see him occupied again.

And soon the winter is gone, and spring is back again with the gaiety of its warm breezes and its blooming flowers.

... ... ... ... ... ...

On a sunny afternoon, two people arrive at Hogwarts: a young girl who beams with excitement and an old man whose bright features reflect her same joy, though with more composure, but whose eyes watch blankly the magnificent rooms they are crossing.

"Miss Ingham! Becky!" Minerva warmly welcomes the girl.

"Doctor Ingham." She then greets the old man with a cordial shaking of hands. "I'm so happy to meet you. Poppy… I mean, Madam Pomfrey told me so many delightful things about you."

Doctor Ingham replies a few words with a quiet tone in which it's possible to detect his emotion for being there.

So Minerva continues, "You'll be pleased to know that you are probably the first Muggle who ever came to Hogwarts." But she is abruptly interrupted.

"Becky!" Hermione has just arrived, and her voice rings with joy. Harry and Ron follow immediately after, so hugs and comments and news are exchanged in a merry confusion until Poppy also arrives, smiling broadly at the visitors. The two older women immediately engage in a friendly conversation with Doctor Ingham while the youngsters laugh and joke, happy to be alive and together.

"I know that you have applied to a course in St. Mungo's," Becky finally says to Hermione.

"Yes," the girl replies quietly. "I have developed a penchant for potions."

"Ah, come on, Hermione!" Harry exclaims. "Don't be so shy!"

"Yes!" Ron hurries to add, "It's to her merit that we have all been healed!"

"I know it!" Becky replies with admiration. "And the staff in St. Mungo's knows it as well. You have really impressed us, Hermione, and we can't wait to have you there."

"Oh! Well, then I'm honoured," Hermione whispers, a lovely rosy shade colouring her cheeks.

And at last, the question hanging in the air arises.

"So… how's Professor Snape now?" Becky asks with her best innocent smile.

"Oh, he is waiting for you and your grandfather," Minerva interjects. "To be honest, it's to him that we owe the pleasure of your arrival today. He moved heaven and earth to obtain Doctor Ingham an authorization. So, would you like to meet him now?"

Though evidently expecting that moment, the place has inexorably brought Becky back to school memories. So, she hesitates for a moment, then she nods bravely and immediately betrays her nervousness by asking, "Has he resumed teaching?"

Poppy smiles. "Not yet, dear, not yet."

The other youngsters understand and leave after a round of goodbyes. Smiling and talking quietly with Doctor Ingham, Minerva leads the man and the girl to the dungeons.

Becky gets more and more nervous with every step. Minerva keeps smiling reassuringly. And Doctor Ingham is too excited to notice his granddaughter's anxiety.

So, finally, they are in front of a door. Minerva knocks, and Snape is there, impressive in his dark robes, black eyes shining again with the same intensity they had in their school days.

Becky pales while Minerva exclaims happily, "Here we are, Severus, as you asked. I'm sure Doctor Ingham would like to know the reason of this special invitation, as I do."

Doctor Ingham starts to kindly protest at this, but Severus interrupts him.

"Good afternoon, Doctor Ingham. Glad to meet you again," he declares politely, shaking hands with the man.

"Miss Ingham," he nods towards the girl.

And finally, "Thank you, Minerva," he replies in a definitive tone, which lets the curious headmistress understand that her task is ended. The old witch frowns, but she can't oppose, so she leaves with a disappointed glance back.

"Good… good afternoon, Professor," Becky stammers, paralysed in awe and surprise, and her grandfather immediately joins her in greeting the wizard with great cordiality.

Snape listens with his characteristic grave expression, then he answers quietly, "I'm very grateful that you indulged my request, Doctor. Please rest assured that I had an important reason to invite you here."

"Personally, I'm happy to see that you are well again, Professor. I must confess that I was very pained when I met you in the hospital. I felt so useless!"

"You mustn't say that! Your words and your courage gave a new direction to my meditation. A new hope. Exactly as Miss Ingham's trick with the Dulcisomnium Draught."

His voice has a meaningful intonation, and Becky reddens.

"Are you still angry with me, Professor?"

"Not at all, Miss Ingham. Your ruse allowed me to see deeper into my heart. I have been a very difficult patient, haven't I? I'm sure you regretted your choice many times."

The old man reacts immediately. "Dear me, Professor! My granddaughter has been honoured. Honoured! We don't want to hear such nonsense. For my part, I am very glad to know that my words were helpful."

"They were indeed. So, now I would like to thank you both appropriately."

"Again, there's no need. Being here, it's a fantastic prize, an unbelievable experience. I only wish I could have my eyes back for a moment, so to see the place in which my granddaughter lived and studied for so many years…"

There is a long pause. "Well, let's be honest. I wish that I could see her again, and that I could see you too, Professor… but you saved my family, and that's something for which I will never have words enough to express my gratitude, and that largely compensates for the loss of my sight."

Severus crosses his arms. "You are wrong, doctor, if you will allow me. As you taught me, never lose hope. I have summoned you here to ask you if you would like to try a new potion I have personally prepared."

"A… a _potion_?… I don't understand…"

"A potion, I would like to add, that has been especially conceived for your eyes."

Doctor Ingham pales. "Don't play with an old man's deepest hope! I have been assured by my own knowledge, by my colleagues, and by your magical colleagues that there is no chance of restoring my sight again."

Severus nods. "That's true. I have personally researched your case, asked your and my colleagues, and examined documents that came from the most specialised centres."

"But then… then how do you…"

"You see, the potion that regenerated my eyes is an evil, dark concoction that compassion and love have transformed into a healing draught. So, I used its regenerating power to create something specific for you, slightly modifying its formula."

Doctor Ingham is speechless. Becky is agape.

In the sudden silence, Severus asks softly, "Would you like to try it?"

The old man sniffles while tears slowly begin to trickle, and he fumbles to extract a handkerchief from his pocket. Becky has paled. She turns to her grandfather, clasping his hand.

"You must try it, grandpa. Please! I trust Professor Snape."

"I will… I will, of course," Ingham stammers in emotion. "You must excuse me, professor, but the shock has been too great."

"I do understand, doctor. But I must also be honest and warn you that there is a possibility that my potion might not work. It has been created for a unique case, and as you can imagine, I couldn't test it on anybody else."

The old man raises his head with a new energy. "It doesn't matter. A failure won't change my life. But a success… My goodness, I can't even dream of such a chance!"

Tears begin to trickle again. With a slight nod, Severus mutely tells Becky to help her grandfather, and the girl makes him sit on a chair. Ingham is visibly agitated. His hands keep moving in unstoppable nervousness, touching the armrests of the chair and Becky's fingers, as if persuading himself that he is not dreaming.

With his calm pace, Severus reaches a small cauldron boiling in a corner of the room, and using a ladle, he drops a certain quantity of the hot liquid in a goblet. Doctor Ingham takes the potion he is offered with a reverent expression. He lets in a deep breath, then he drinks the disgusting mixture without interruption, thus offering the best evidence of his trust.

Becky and Severus look at him with equally hopeful faces. The man has a long shudder, and the goblet falls from his fingers. The horrid power of the potion makes him tremble forcefully, and Becky hurries to hug him while watching Snape interrogatively.

Finally, breathing in short, pained gasps, the man raises his head, pressing his fingers on his eyes.

"I… I don't believe…" He begins tremblingly, releasing the pressure on his eyelids with painful slowness. Then he lets out a harsh exclamation. "Becky! Becky! _I see you_!"

With a cry of joy, the girl hugs her grandfather while tears start to flow again. Severus crosses his arms and backs away a step, watching the scene with a quiet smile.

... ... ... ... ... ...

Evening. Doctor Ingham and Becky have been invited to have dinner in the castle. The old man is still upset by the different emotions experienced during that incredible day, so Minerva and Poppy - especially Poppy who always had a soft spot for the kind doctor - talk quietly with him and gradually help him to recover. Therefore, when the moment of saying goodbye arrives, the two visitors are themselves again, but with an immense happiness in their hearts.

At the last minute of that astonishing day, Becky overcomes her apprehension and goes looking for Snape. In his typical horror of the emotions that such departures seem to forcedly bring with them, the wizard has quietly retreated in one of the halls. The girl enters hesitantly, and he considers her with a frown that initially intimidates Becky. Then his lips curl in one of his rarest smiles.

"I'm glad to see that my lessons haven't been wasted."

"Thank you, Professor. Thank you for my grandfather," the girl replies, blushing in emotion.

He raises a hand. "No, Miss Ingham, I'm the one who should—"

But this time Becky is ready to stop him. "You don't need to say anything else, Professor. I'm happy and proud I could help you."

"Still, I wish I could do something to thank you," Severus replies gravely.

"Oh, but you can!" she exclaims, and a very peculiar spark lights her face. "Remember the evening in the hospital when I asked you that question? I felt so mean for laying you a snare! May I ask you again for… for your _forgiveness_?"

And before he can answer, Becky kisses him on his cheek. He stiffens; then, slowly, he relaxes and shakes his head with a disbelieving, amused frown.

Eyes twinkling in mischief, the girl smiles. "See? It wasn't so difficult."

... ... ... ... ... ...

The moment to leave has arrived for the two very special visitors Hogwarts has received today. Still engaged in an animated conversation, Poppy and Minerva lead Doctor Ingham and Becky to a particular point from where the girl and her grandfather will experience again the sickening sensation offered by Side-Along-Apparating.

Standing under the doorframe, with a pensive air and arms crossed, Severus is watching the departure of his guests while he savours the warm emotions that their visit brought to his heart. _No more alone_, his spirit sings. The happy people who are walking in the garden, and who keep turning continuously to wave their hands and smile at him as if they can't decide to leave, those people are his _friends_.

For the first time in his life, that word has a very special meaning, a new comforting power, and his eyes linger on Poppy, who is now talking serenely with Doctor Ingham. Suddenly, he remembers the many times in which he had felt the same warmth, the same affection wash over him in the days of his affliction, and the many times instead in which he had repaid such dedication by making her life a total hell… and yet, she never left his side.

And what about Minerva, who chats with Becky and laughs as if she were a teenager as well? Minerva, who fought against a whole system, who welcomed him back and did her best to protect him… Once more, he lowers his head in gratitude. Losing his sight opened a totally new world to him, offering him visions that he has never contemplated before.

And finally, his gaze rests on the joyful face of Becky Ingham, and his expression softens again, remembering what had happened on that amazing afternoon: how Doctor Ingham had opened his eyes, and for a long, incredibly poignant moment, it had seemed that neither he nor Becky would ever stop crying and thanking him. Yes, that supreme result was really worth all his efforts, all those months of painstakingly researching… but Severus knows very well that what he has offered is only a small, small reward, compared to what he has been given so freely.

With a soft brushing of robes, Hermione now comes to join Snape under the doorway, looking at him with her best friendly smile. The girl has been observing him for a while, and intrigued by the peaceful expression that now shapes his features, she hasn't been able to resist her curiosity.

"What are you thinking, Professor?" Hermione asks with the fresh familiarity she has developed with him; then, knowing how reserved he is about his feelings, she blushes and immediately apologises.

But for the very first time, Severus is happy about such a personal question, and he bows to the girl as if acknowledging her authority.

"You were right, Granger. It wasn't a matter of will. It was a matter of love."

**THE END**

... ... ... ... ... ...

_**Message from the author: **_

So, hi again to all those who have been so brave as to read this highly emotional story to its end.

_Now that we are saying goodbye, I would especially like to thank all the people who have helped me during these years, a fantastic team of betas and previewers: _**_Jynx67, Pennfana, Misundersnape, Duj, Lidiladilom, DementedLeaf, Tearsofphoenix, Angelicanight (_****_now simply_****_ Angelicka), AmyLouise _****_and_****_ Nagandsev._**

_Thank you very much: without your support, this story would have never been finished._

_And thank you again to my intrepid readers. Without YOUR imagination, this story would be just a handful of letters scattered on a white screen instead of living in your minds and hearts (hopefully)._

_I hope you have enjoyed it. I never ask for reviews, but now that I have reached the end of this long journey, I would be happy to receive a goodbye from all of you. Please? You don't need to write a message. Just a Hi, or a Hello, or a Hola, or a Ciao, or whatever you think best, and your name._

_Thanks in advance to those who answer, and a very special thanks to those who want to help me improve and who therefore also add a final comment. I promise to reply to everybody who leaves me a review._


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